Testing Loyalties
by Inspired178
Summary: Harry Potter and his friends are back at Hogwarts for another year! This story takes place in a semi-AU place: a mesh of GoF and OotP! All characters and plots are as canon as they could be in this alternate setting. Critique and questions encouraged! Rated T because I'm paranoid. Updates every Friday!
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! Welcome back to another fic! The first few chapters are short (as always unfortunately) but I promise it will pick up! This takes place in a combination of GoF and OotP; using plots and characters from both. **

**Disclaimer: From now until the end of time, I, Inspired178, do not own any recognisable characters, plots, magical objects, etc.**

**Big thanks to my wonderful beta-reader: Princess Twila!**

**Critique and questions encouraged! Enjoy!**

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Chapter 1: Umbridge

Another year, another train ride. Once again, Harry Potter and his friends Ron and Hermione were going back to Hogwarts for another 10 months of spells, potions, and duels. And as usual, Defense against the Dark Arts had a new teacher as it did every year. As Ron sat down in the Great Hall, waiting for the Feast, he snorted. "Bit of frilly grandma, isn't she?"

Harry looked to see where Ron was nodding his head. The new teacher was dressed head to toe in pink: very frilly, and very girly. Her short brown hair was curled under a pink hat. Her pudgy fingers were clasped around a goblet, toad face scanning the tables.

"She was at my hearing!" Harry exclaimed quietly.

"What's she doin' here?" Ron asked.

Before Harry could answer, Dumbledore got up from his seat and made his way to the owl stand in front of the head table.

"Good evening! Welcome new students, and welcome back old. Another year, another feast! First years are reminded that the Dark Forest is out of bounds. A few students can vouch of its dangers," Albus peered over his half-moon spectacles at Fred, George, Harry, Ron, and Hermione. The twins smiled back. "I'd like to introduce our newest staff member, Professor Umbridge."

Standing up, Umbridge made her way to the podium. No one clapped.

"_Hem hem._ Good evening," she said in a very girly, high voice. "It is wonderful to see you all smiling back at me." Harry looked around; no, no one was smiling at her. "This year will be a little different than most…in fact, very different. This year, the Triwizard Tournament has been resurrected and will take place here. Now, because of the death toll, only Years 5 and up are allowed to participate and be chosen. Other details will be discussed later," Umbridge gave a quick fake cough as the chatter rose. No one heeded her until Dumbledore stood up and gave a warm smile. "That is all," Umbridge said, sitting down as the chatter rose again. Hagrid and Dumbledore were the only ones to clap. Everyone else was either discussing the wild Tournament ideas, or staring at Umbridge in disgust. Umbridge, however, sat down in a sickly pleasant manner, and surveyed the students with interest, as though they were all untamed beasts that needed to be suppressed and conquered.

"Two last words for you all," Dumbledore said loudly. "Tuck. In!"

"Finally!" Ron said hungrily. He shoveled food onto his plate, and from there to his mouth.

"Why is she here?" Harry asked Hermione through bites of potatoes.

"The Ministry is interfering at Hogwarts," Hermione replied.

"Iee?" Ron asked after a bite of steak.

"I don't know, Ronald," she said turning to him, "but whatever it is, Dumbledore is not happy about it."

Harry looked at Dumbledore. He seemed happy, talking to McGonagall, but as Harry looked closer, he saw a slight slump in posture, the twinkle was faint in his eyes, and Dumbledore looked tired.

Soon, dinner turned to dessert, and the evening turned to night. Classes would begin tomorrow, and Harry had Defense against the Dark Arts first.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hey everyone! Here's chapter two! Big thanks to my beta-reader Princess Twila! Critique/comments/predictions/questions encouraged!  
Have a good weekend!**

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Chapter 2: DADA

Chatter all about Tournament seemed to flood the Hogwarts classrooms, halls, and common rooms. Everything from myths to wild stories of deaths in the Tournament were buzzing throughout the conversations. Harry, however, had taken a liking to his shoes whenever he was asked about the Tournament. He didn't know if he wanted to enter. His scar was burning more than ever now. Voldemort couldn't be near….could he? He thought back to last year, the chase to find Sirius after he went after Pettigrew, the wild escape from Death Eaters lurking near the Banshee Forest….something wasn't right. Voldemort should have already risen. Trelawney had said so herself in her _real_ prophecy. Harry would have to ask Hermione about it tomorrow. For now, he tried not to be sick at the amount of pink there was in the DADA room. Cats were everywhere! On the walls were pictures of cats, all meowing or eating out of food bowls or sleeping in their frames.

"Bit of a nutter, isn't she?" Ron whispered as Umbridge walked out of her office. She wore a pink cardigan and a black bow on her head. Harry was reminded of a big black fly perched on an even bigger frog.

"You bet," Harry answered under his breath. Just then, Umbridge spoke up.

"Good morning class!" she said with fake cheer, and mumbles from the students answered her.

"I said," she repeated, smiling even wider, "_Good morning, class._"

"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," the class recited.

"Now, today we will be learning from the Ministry-approved Defense Theory textbooks." Handing them out, Umbridge continued. "You will read chapter 1 today, and then you will do some work. Wands away! There will be no need to talk!"

Everyone groaned, and Harry moodily put his want back in his pocket; any class that did not require wands was not a fun class. Hermione, much to Harry's surprise, kept her book closed and raised her hand. "Professor, aren't we going to be learning spells?"

Umbridge's high-pitched chuckle pierced their ears. "Of course! You will be learning through the textbook. You will understand the theory to pass your exam, which is what school is all about."

"So we're not going to be using spells?" Seamus asked from the other side of the room.

"Students will raise their hand when they wish to speak," Umbridge sang out with false cheer.

Seamus raised his hand and repeated his question.

"Using spells? My dear, who would attack children such as yourselves?" Umbridge answered with deriding scorn.

"Oh, I don't know," Harry called out, frustrated. "Maybe…Voldemort?"

Umbridge turned a slight shade of pink that clashed with her pink outfit. "You have been told," she said loudly, "that a certain dark wizard shall rise again. This. Is. A. Lie!"

"It is not!" Harry yelled, standing up. "I saw him! I fought him!"

"Lies!" Umbridge hissed, her usual fake cheer disappearing from her face and rendering her even more ugly than usual.

"First year, he was on the back of Quirrell's head, second year, he was manipulating a basilisk," Harry counted on his fingers. "Third year, his _rat_ of a servant escaped and found him. Last year, I actually _dueled_ him. He _will_ be back. We can't just be here defenseless!"

Umbridge's single word echoed with as much force as Harry's violent tirade. "Detention," she said, nostrils flared. "Detention, Mr. Potter, for propagating lies, for speaking out of turn, and for talking back to your _betters_. Now you will sit and read chapter 1 silently and without further mishap." Her sickly smile crept back onto her face, and her look of satisfaction made Harry shake with anger. He nearly said something to her again, and it was only a kick from Hermione under the desk that brought him back to his senses.

Harry sat down, seething. She was blind. She was aggravating, irritating, useless, a liar, and a fool. He _had_ to do something about this.

"Hermione," Harry whispered to her, "who brought back the Triwizard Tournament?"

Hermione brought her eyes to his, and said carefully in a whisper, "Umbridge."


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey everyone! Here's chapter 3! The disclaimer in chapter 1 applies forever, so I won't repeat it.  
Thanks to Princess Twila for beta-ing the story!  
Critique/questions/predictions/suggestions etc. encouraged!**

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Chapter 3: Potions and Pomfrey

All through the rest of the day and into the next, Harry thought and he thought hard. Today, Harry would have Potions and DADA back-to-back. He could feel a migraine working its way into his head as he stepped into the cool dungeons. Snape and Umbridge in the same afternoon did not seem like a pleasant time.

"You will quickly and accurately produce a vial of the Antidote to Most Common Poisons. Once finished, you will start on your assignment," Snape drawled. "Well? What are you waiting for? Begin."

Harry got started on his potion. He could feel himself flush slightly when he looked at Hermione's potion –which was turning a light yellow colour –while his was turning a dark blue.

"Terrible, Potter. Start again," Snape said from behind Harry. He vanished the potion. "Fail to follow the instructions properly again, and you will receive a T."

"He already has T's!" Draco sneered from across the room. "I bet he's going to be chosen for the Tournament! Won't you, Potter? I can't wait to go against you; I'll win with my hands behind my back!"

"Shut it, Malfoy," Harry growled.

"5 points from Gryffindor for disrupting the class," Snape smiled maliciously.

Harry sat down and once again began working on his potion. He heard Ron and Hermione talking quietly beside him, but he decided to ignore them, instead focusing on his breathing and trying not to think of the next class ahead.

Finally, the bell rang, and although Harry only had time to complete the antidote, he was grateful to be out of that class. Hurrying to the Gryffindor common room, he sat at his bed and put his head in his hands. He was tired. Nightmares had plagued him the night previous. They had summed up every encounter with Voldemort that Harry had had, including a once forgotten memory of his parents' deaths.

"Harry?" Ron said from the doorway. "It's time for Defense."

Harry got up and made his way to the classroom with Ron and Hermione. He really hoped things would go smoother than yesterday…but he was wrong.

Immediately after walking into the classroom, Harry was greeted with Umbridge in another pink outfit, faking a smile and magicking their textbooks onto their desks.

"Good morning, class," she said when the whole class had filed in.

"Good morning, Professor Umbridge," the class recited tiredly.

"Today you will be reading chapter two, class. Wands away! There will be no need to talk! You may start."

Harry restlessly flipped to chapter two. It was describing wand movements, colours, and the power it took. Feeling himself start to doze off, he began to tap his fingers lightly on his desk to keep himself awake.

"Mr. Potter," Umbridge said sweetly, "you are distracting the class."

Harry looked around, the students seemed grateful for the interruption. "They don't look distracted."

"I do not like your back talk, Mr. Potter. I would keep quiet and read if you do not wish to have another detention," Umbridge scolded with a condescending smile.

"A detention for what? Telling the truth?" Harry challenged, standing up. Hermione tried to pull him down, but Harry stood his ground.

"I really hate students," Umbridge whispered, walking up to Harry.

"Then why are you here?" Harry asked heatedly.

"The Ministry-"

"I don't give a _damn_ what the Ministry thinks!" Harry said, quite loudly. "They are liars, and are too cowardly to even believe Voldemort will be back, and has already been back."

"Language, Mr. Potter! Detention! Tonight and tomorrow!" Umbridge screeched.

Anger. Pure anger was coursing through his veins. A snake-like hiss seethed in the back of his mind, egging him to attack. To bite, to kill, to watch the blood drain from her neck, to see her limp on the floor. Harry felt himself pale as he fell into unconsciousness. He collapsed limply on the ground, and just before blacking out, he thought he heard a high pitch laugh.

Harry was awake. He was in a very comfy bed. Its linen was soft to the touch, and the mattress wasn't squeaky. By the smell of things, Harry believed he was in the Infirmary. Though he couldn't remember why, or what happened. He recalled faintly of the argument Umbridge and he got in, and after that, blackness. He had no idea how long he had been unconscious, but he needed to get up. Now.

"Mr. Potter!" Madame Pomfrey said surprised, bustling into the room. "You're awake!"

Harry opened his eyes, and reached for his glasses. Putting him on, he blinked a few times before resting his eyes on Madame Pomfrey. "Yeah," he said hoarsely.

"Take this," Pomfrey shoved a glass into his hands. Harry looked at it. "Drink," Madam Pomfrey ordered. "It's only water."

Taking big gulps, he felt his throat loosen. "Thanks." Then, his curiosity overwhelmed him. "What happened?"

"You fainted, Mr. Potter."

Harry felt himself blush again. How could he have fainted? He had felt perfectly fine before. Except that unbearable anger…

"Why?" he asked aloud.

"That is exactly what I was going to ask you," Pomfrey answered. "Did you eat breakfast yesterday?"

_I've been out for about a day,_ Harry thought. "Yes," he said aloud.

"Lunch?"

"Yes."

"Were you too warm?"

"No."

"Hmmm," Madame Pomfrey thought. "I have already run diagnostic spells and you appear to be in perfect health. Your detentions with Umbridge have been lifted because of your condition. Take better care next time, Mr. Potter."

"Will do," Harry said. "Can I err- go now?"

"You most certainly may not, Mr. Potter!" Madam Pomfrey scolded. Upon seeing his remorseful look, she amended with a caring smile, "At least not until you have eaten."

Harry ate quickly, not realizing how hungry he had been until he finished his meal, and then got dressed, heading to the common room.

After finding Ron and Hermione, Harry got a full recount of the whole ordeal.

"Umbridge is still furious with you," Hermione said worriedly. "She was hysterical when she found out Madame Pomfrey cancelled both of your detentions."

"And Malfoy will probably have the story spread by tonight," Ron added.

"That's okay, we'll get the git soon," Harry answered.

"Your attention, please!" Professor McGonagall called from the Head Table.

Dumbledore rose from his place at the table, and made his way to the podium.

"I have an announcement concerning the Tournament," he called.

That brought everyone to attention.

"It has been decided that the Sorting Hat will decide the two Hogwarts Champions to compete against Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. Also," Dumbledore now looked gravely at the Head Table, "the teachers will also try on the hat, and be put into consideration."

The students' protests crashed like angry waves onto Dumbledore. Umbridge, Harry noticed, was wearing a satisfied smirk.

"The sorting will take place in a week, and I do hope those wishing to participate will strongly consider the risks," Dumbledore announced. Taking his seat, he said, "Let the feast begin."

And so it did.


	4. Chapter 4

**Sorry this is late, everyone! Because this is a short chapter, I'll be posting the fifth chapter later today.**

**Critique/predictions/suggestions/etc. encouraged!  
Thanks for reading!**

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Chapter 4: The Choosing

It was time. Exactly one week later, on September 17th, all students from year 5 and up, along with all the teachers, lined up outside the Great Hall. Nervous chatter all around was heard. Harry was standing with Ron and Hermione, trying to block out Malfoy's loud bragging –"My father said I'll be chosen. It will be a given. The only thing I don't know is who I will be against. Either way, I will be champion."

"Next!" Umbridge called from the Great Hall. She would not be participating, and neither would Dumbledore, as they were running the Tournament. One by one the students and teachers went into the Hall, tried on the hat, and then came back out. By the end of the day, the champions will be narrowed down to 10 students, and then 2.

Soon, the line seemed to grow very small. Harry was nearing the door. Before he knew it, he was called into the room.

"Sit here, Mr. Potter," Umbridge said sharply, pointing to the three-legged stool. Atop it sat the Sorting Hat.

Sitting down, Harry vividly remembered his first year, sitting on the stool, looking out at the sea of students, and begging to not be in Slytherin. Now, the Sorting Hat would decide an entirely different fate.

_Ah Harry Potter,_ the Sorting Hat said in Harry's head. _A Gryffindor! Very brave, very courageous, and a strong heart. I sense a strong will, and a dire need for survival. What do you say about the Tournament?_

"I don't know," Harry replied aloud.

_But you do know, Harry Potter,_ the hat continued. _You may feel indifferent on the outside, but on the inside, you are curious. Yes, very curious. It is for that reason and many others that __you__ will be one of the 10._

Harry opened his eyes, and felt a sweep of dread. He was one. He was one of the chosen. He would have to compete against one other Hogwarts student and two each from Durmstrang and Beauxbatons. He would win; he needed to.

"You all right, Harry?" Hermione asked when Harry walked out of the Hall. Ron had just walked in, and Harry was going to head to the Common Room.

"Tell you later," he answered.

"You _what?_" Hermione screeched. "Harry! Ronald and I were also put into consideration. If one of us is against you..." she trailed off.

Harry knew what she was going to say. If they were to go against him, one of them or both of them would be hurt. He didn't know much about the deaths, but in the end, there would only be 1 champion. He didn't know how they were eliminated, and he didn't want to find out.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: The Posting

The next morning, Harry quickly got ready. Today was the day the final 10 contestants would be announced. Harry was very anxious to see exactly who he may be against. Bolting to the posting board outside the common room, Harry scanned the list.

Harry Potter

Draco Malfoy

Hermione Granger

George Weasley

Fred Weasley

Ron Weasley

Cho Chang

Luna Lovegood

Severus Snape

Minerva McGonagall

Dread filled him. Not only had his two best friends been selected, but his head of house, his previous crush, two enemies, the twins, and a girl nicknamed "Looney" had also been chosen.

"How d'you think they'll decide who the final two are?" Ron asked from behind him.

"Dunno," Harry answered. "But I expect it won't be pleasant."

"Good evening to you all," Dumbledore said brightly across the Great Hall. The entire day Harry had been speculating and nervously wondering what the final selection would be.

"It has been decided that the final two shall be selected tonight, by means of a skill test, done by myself. The test shall decide who will be the two Hogwarts champions," Dumbledore finished.

"What kind of test? I haven't studied everything from sixth year yet!" Hermione said worriedly.

"Hermione, relax. Why are you studying sixth year anyway? We're in fifth!" Ron exclaimed.

Hermione shrugged. "We should probably go to Professor McGonagall's office for instructions."

"There will be no need, Ms. Granger, I am right here," McGonagall replied, walking up to them. "Now as you know, there is a test. Ms. Granger, you will be first, followed by Mr. Weasley, then Mr. Potter," she explained. "It will be held in the Headmaster's office. He wishes me to tell you that his favourite candy is lemon drops."

"R-right now?" Hermione asked, startled. "But, I haven't studied all the material! I'm not prepared! I-"

"Ms. Granger, I assure you, the test will be difficult, but no so much so you must memorise each textbook the school provides," Professor McGonagall interrupted. "It is more of an instinct test than a book test. There is no way to prepare. Good luck to the three of you," McGonagall dismissed and walked away.

"Now or never," said Ron. "Best we go now before Malfoy and his cronies come over here."

Ron was right. Malfoy and his body guards, Crabbe and Goyle, were snickering and looked like they were going to walk over towards the trio at any moment.

"Let's go," Harry agreed, leading the way to Dumbledore's office.

"Good evening," Dumbledore greeted at his office door. "Come in."

The trio entered quietly. Hermione was fidgeting, Ron kept scratching his arm, and Harry was nervous too, but tried not to show it. Dumbledore gestured for them to sit in the three seats that appeared in front of his desk. Taking a seat, he sat behind his desk.

"I have a very unique way of testing your abilities, one I have designed myself," Dumbledore said softly. His blue eyes were gazing carefully into each of their eyes. Harry felt a small pressure in his head when Dumbledore 'x-rayed' his eyes. "One at a time, you each will enter a memory of sorts. There, you will be put in three scenarios where you must pick the best course of action. When you are done, you will emerge, and we will wait for your fellow students' results."

"How exactly will we be seeing these 'memory of sorts'?" Harry asked.

"I'm glad you asked," Dumbledore replied. "You see, you will be going under a simulation by viewing in the Pensieve. I will cast an enchantment on you before, and then allow you to enter the Pensieve. Quite literally, I do mean enter. In order to get out, you must complete the tasks." After the trio nodded in understanding, Dumbledore continued. "I will allow the three of you a moment outside my office to prepare and discuss. Off you go."

The door shut behind them as they walked out. Hermione was the first to speak. "They are testing us in a way that is almost cruel. These tests will be difficult."

"Really? I thought we got to just sit around and eat Fairy Floss!" Ron replied sarcastically.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Even now they will challenge us beyond comprehension. I suggest we all play to our strengths. Harry, you're an amazing flyer, if you can, acquire a broom. Ron, you're good a chess, if you can use that strategic logic, do it," she hurriedly explained. "I'll rely on my logic."

"Right," Harry nodded. "Good luck."

"Ms. Granger?" Dumbledore appeared at the door. "You are first."

Hermione smiled weakly and entered, shutting the door behind her.

"Now what?" Ron asked, making himself comfortable, leaning against the wall.

"We wait," Harry answered.

Harry was too nervous to talk. He just sat there twiddling his thumbs and tapping his foot. The noise was annoying Ron, and finally, he snapped. "Oi! Harry, calm down. You'll be fine."

"Yeah," Harry said half convinced. What problems were waiting for him behind that door? He couldn't just sit there. He got up and started pacing.

"In about 5 minutes you'll fall right through the floor," Ron noted, smiling. "I'm scared too, but it can't be that bad."

"Then what's taking Hermione so long?" Harry pointed out.

"Hermione!" Ron exclaimed, standing up.

Hermione exited Dumbledore's office and stood out with them. She was shaking slightly and was looking pale.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked.

Hermione merely shook her head. "C-can't s-say."

"But it's us, Hermione!" Ron said, "Can't you tell us?"

Hermione's eyes filled with tears, "N-no."

"Mr. Weasley? It is your turn," Dumbledore called gravely.

Gulping, Ron entered. The oak door shut with a thud, and Harry stood there, looking at Hermione. She had composed herself to her best ability. Her frizzy hair was knotted and tangled, she had scratches on her face and hands, but she had stopped crying.

"It's difficult, Harry," she croaked. "It's ruthless. Umbridge designed the entire thing. I'm sure of it."

Harry walked over to Hermione and gave her a hug. "She won't be on top for long. She has to fall at some point."

"Thanks," Hermione said, stepping back.

"Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore summoned soberly. "You are next."

Harry walked by a trembling Ron, who sat down beside Hermione, staring blankly.

"Sim Memoria," Dumbledore murmured. Harry shivered as the spell did its work. "Your wand, Mr. Potter."

Confused, Harry asked, "Why?"

"You will use it later, but not during the first simulation."

"Oh," Harry reluctantly handed it over. He felt very defenseless.

"You may enter the Pensieve, Harry."

Harry did as he was told. And as he did, he had the familiar gut instinct of very bad things to come.


	6. Chapter 6

**Here's chapter 6! Thanks to everyone for their wonderful reviews and subscriptions! Special thanks to Princess Twila for her reviews and her help in the making of this fanfiction. Enjoy!**

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Chapter 6: The Pensieve

Harry shut his eyes as a blinding flash of white pierced his eyes. When he opened them, he was in a pure white room with no windows or furniture, only a single door at the other end of the large room, which he started to make his way to. Suddenly, a table appeared in front of him, with three weapons: a deadly look potion, a sword, and a basilisk fang. Harry had no idea what events would arise when he passed through the door in front of him. He would need to protect himself, so anything unknown would not help. He immediately eliminated the potion, having no idea what it was. Now it was the sword or the fang. The knight's weapon or the poison. Something in his mind told him to grab the sword, and he did.

_Poison will only destroy so many, a sword will last until it is broken_, Harry thought grimly.

The table disappeared as his hands touched the sword's hilt. The room began to collapse, and Harry ran as fast as he could out of the room. He just managed to reach the door and turn the knob when the entire room fell into the depths of the unknown. Shaking slightly, he closed the door behind him and turned to face the contents of the space before him. The door he had passed through stood alone on a hilltop, and before Harry lay a ravine over which spanned what was possibly the most poorly built bridge ever constructed. Across the ravine was another hilltop sporting another door with no supporting walls, and Harry knew that this was where he was supposed to go. He stepped forward and had nearly put his foot on the bridge when he jumped in surprise.

"Who dares to pass the bridge of death?" A booming voice from nowhere yelled.

"I do!" Harry challenged. He held up his sword, and prepared to strike.

"Answer this and you may pass," the voice said.

_Voiceless it cries,_

_Wingless flutters,_

_Toothless bites,_

_Mouthless mutters._

Harry panicked. He had no idea. _Calm down,_ he forced himself. He took a deep breath and thought. _Voiceless it cries….lots of things cry,_ Harry thought, _but without a voice?_ Wingless flutters…it couldn't be a snitch. No, they had wings. It wasn't a bird either. Harry found his answer before he reached the third line. A light wind brushed his face.

"The wind! The answer to the riddle is the wind!" Harry yelled.

"Correct," the voice bellowed. "You may pass."

Harry made his way carefully over the rickety bridge. He thought he heard whispers below him. He wanted to jump, to find the whispers, but he reminded himself of the task ahead.

In the next room, there was a wardrobe. In that wardrobe, Harry thought he would find what he needed to move on. Instead, when he opened it, Voldemort in the flesh walked out. He looked like he had when he was on the back of Quirrell's head.

"You are worthless, Potter," Voldemort hissed. "You risk your life constantly. For what? To protect those you _love?_" He spat. "They don't love you. Your worthless mother died for nothing. Harry Potter, you will join me or die. No one loves you."

"Liar!" Harry screamed. He was about to slash Voldemort with the sword when he turned into Umbridge.

"My dear, who would _ever_ trust you? Who would _ever_ believe you? You are worthless, idiot boy."

Harry slashed her with the blade. She dissolved into nothingness. Harry suffered no physical injuries, but he was feeling a little deflated after that. What they said wasn't true…was it?

_Don't be stupid,_ Harry thought. Still, a trace of doubt was left with him. Shaking his head, he carried on to his next challenge. Upon entering, he found Hermione and Ron both lying unconscious.

"Ron! Hermione!" Harry yelled. He raced over to them, but was blocked off by what looked like Fluffy, the three-headed dog. Harry quickly began to whistle the first song he could think of: the Hogwarts Anthem. When he was done, Fluffy was asleep, and he quietly started toward his friends again. Once again, he was blocked off. This time, by…himself?

He rubbed his eyes, and yet, there he was, standing right in front of him with his messy hair, green eyes, glasses, and short lanky figure. Even his scar was a mirror image. He twitched his right hand, and his duplicate did the same. He was anxious now. What would happen to Ron and Hermione if he didn't get to them? He tried to move around his clone, but the other did the same.

_Now what?_ Harry thought. _In order to beat myself, I have to use my weaknesses...which are what? I have a 'saving people thing' according to Malfoy; 'love' is weak according to Voldemort. My strength is weak, but I can't be stronger than myself._

Harry then realised that while he had a sword in his hand, his mirror image did not.

_Great, I get to murder myself,_ Harry thought sarcastically.

In one quick slice, his clone was dead. Harry thought little of it as he raced to his friends. He had to save them. But, upon arriving at their sides, they dissolved. Harry realized with both a grain of annoyance and a feeling of relief that Ron and Hermione weren't in any danger at all.

"Congratulations, Harry," Dumbledore's voice echoed in his ears. "You have completed the challenge."

Harry breathed a sigh of relief. He felt himself being dragged up to the office, and when he felt his feet firmly on the floor, he collapsed in exhaustion.

"I believe your friends wish to speak to you. But you may not speak about your experience with them. It is in the magical contract signed when you entered," Dumbledore explained.

Harry nodded. Dumbledore smiled briefly, and then walked over to his desk. He sat at his desk and put his face in his hands. Dumbledore was tired. Just like he was at the first dinner. For the first time, Dumbledore looked very old and fragile to Harry.

"Harry?" Ron asked from the door.

Harry tore his eyes away from Dumbledore. "Coming."


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for all the reviews! Criticism/Predictions/Random Thoughts/Questions greatly encouraged!**

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Chapter 7: Final Two

"Attention! Attention!" Umbridge's voice echoed throughout the school. "Could the final 10 make their way to my classroom to select the final two champions." She gave a sickly sweet smile to all who were looking at her. "That is all."

Harry looked at Ron and Hermione. This was it. This would be final. There would be no turning back if any of them were chosen.

"Let's go," Harry said. They walked fairly quickly, both excited and nervous of the possibility of being chosen.

"Mr. Potter," Umbridge greeted with a fake smile when they entered. "Mr. Weasley, Ms. Granger," she nodded.

Harry made his way to his usual seat in the classroom: the aisle seat in the middle. Dumbledore was sitting in a straight-back chair at the front. Harry noted that instead of tired and pale, Dumbledore looked tired and…grey? There was little to no colour in his face, and his blue eyes were barely twinkling. He looked sick.

"Dumbledore is not happy with this," Hermione whispered. She seemed to be right. Once you took in the overall greyness and exhaustion, he looked sorrowful.

"Everyone! We have decided upon the final two! Dumbledore and I will cast our patronuses and whichever two they stand in front of, will be the finalists," Umbridge announced cheerily. Her pudgy hands were grasped tightly around her wand. Dumbledore gracefully lifted his wand and a phoenix flew about the room. Umbridge, however, had to shout, "Expecto Patronum!" in order to have her own cat – tiny in comparison to Dumbledore's magnificent phoenix – stumble around the room.

"Fits her personality nicely, eh, Georgie? She's as two-faced as one," Fred snickered.

They all lined up, and nervously awaited the patronuses to land in front of them. Harry shut his eyes and wondered if he really even wanted to be here, if he really wanted to do this. When he opened his eyes, the cat sat in front of him.

_Perfect,_ Harry thought sarcastically. _Who is my teammate?_

Harry internally groaned. Snape was standing there, seething at Dumbledore. His phoenix was flying around Snape, until it landed elegantly in front of him. Snape clenched his jaw. No. Be a teammate with _Potter_?

"There we have it!" Umbridge squealed. "The final two!"

Cries of "that's not fair!" and other more rude things were shouted at Umbridge. She only smiled back at them, her beady black eyes shining with suppressed, evil merriment. Eventually the contestants filed out of the room until everyone but Harry, Snape, and Dumbledore were left. Harry stood there in shock. He had lost his voice and couldn't remember how to walk. There was no way in hell that Snape and Harry would be able to work together and win this tournament.

"Headmaster, you don't really mean for me to compete, do you?" Snape asked bitterly. "I have no time to take part in such trivial contests."

"Severus, you and Harry were the top two out of the finalists. You must compete," Dumbledore said simply.

"Professor, does that mean I have to work with Snape?" Harry asked.

"Professor Snape," Dumbledore corrected. "And yes, if Hogwarts is to have any chance of winning, you must work together."

"And if I don't want to work with him?" Harry challenged.

Dumbledore shook his head. "Please, Harry. I have tried for years to make you two get along. Can you please do this for Hogwarts?"

Snape barely nodded, keeping his jaw clenched in contained anger. Harry only glared at the floor in resignation and fury.

"Thank you," Dumbledore sighed. "Off you go, Mr. Potter. I'm sure your friends will want to celebrate."

Harry ran off without evening glancing at his teammate.

As soon as Harry had left, Snape cast the Muffliato spell on the doorway, locked it, and let out his fury.

"I will be working with the brat Potter?" Snape spat through clenched teeth. "_What_ were you thinking?"

"Harry and yourself both were very determined and very courageous in your simulations," Dumbledore explained. "More than that, you both were calm in the face of danger, and used your intelligence and quick thinking to get you through."

"Potter is inept at most subjects. I will be doing all the work. _And for what_? A competition I wish to take no part it," Snape said angrily. "I know what games you're up to, Headmaster, and I do not like them at all."

Dumbledore smiled, his eyes twinkling for the first time in weeks. "Severus, whatever 'games I am up to', I assure you I mean only the best."

Snape huffed. "Then I guess we will see just how well Potter will take directions." Snape stormed out of the room, cape whipping behind him.

Dumbledore chuckled. "You will work with him, Severus. There's no doubt about it," he said to himself.


	8. Chapter 8

**Yup. Really short chapter this week. I can already feel the glares from behind my computer screen. Sorry, it will get longer, I promise. As per usual, I encourage people to ask questions and give critique and give me their opinion etc. Have a good Christmas/Kwanza/Hannukah/Holiday/whatever suits your fancy!**

* * *

Chapter 8: Preparation

Snape had been right when he said Dumbledore had been up to something. Oh yes, Albus Dumbledore had a plan in mind. He needed to talk to Severus first, and to do so without suspicion, he summoned him before breakfast.

"You called, Headmaster?" Snape asked suspiciously. If he was tired or bleary, he gave no indication.

"I did, Severus," Dumbledore nodded. "I must ask something of you," he gestured towards the chair in front of his desk. Severus rolled his eyes and sat down reluctantly in the chair he had occupied so many times since he started working for Dumbledore. "Yes?"

"I am afraid Lord Voldemort will rise soon. I have a hunch, which, in most cases, my hunches tend to be correct. You see," Dumbledore said, gazing into one of his many instruments. One snake slithered towards the ceiling before breaking into two. "I believe Voldemort will attempt his return. You say you have word of such?"

"I did," Snape confirmed. "Lucius is sure of it."

Dumbledore nodded knowingly. "That is why I had you become champion, Severus. Not only did you have the skill, but you must protect the boy."

"And how is this any different than the usual school year, Headmaster?" Snape asked coolly.

"Voldemort may try to harm him, and you must protect him while live in front of the entire Wizarding World without causing suspicion," Dumbledore answered.

Snape took this in. "And if Potter and I are the final two overall?"

Dumbledore looked sadly at Snape. "Then I believe we must find a solution to keep both of you."

* * *

"Harry! You _have_ to learn these spells before the first task!" Hermione said frantically. "Beauxbatons and Durmstrang may not be housing here, but they are still very strong competitors. You need to survive."

"I know, I know," Harry said dismissively. Hermione had been pestering him all day, while Harry was more worried about dealing with Snape during the tournament. "What spell do I need to learn first?"

"Accio would be a useful one," Hermione said thoughtfully. "What do you think, Ron?"

Ron looked up from his paper, "Finally remembered me, did you?" He asked bitterly.

"We didn't forget you, Ronald," Hermione replied.

"Yeah? Well let me know when stupid, ginger Ron can be at your service," Ron barked, storming out of the room. Harry felt horrible. What was wrong with Ron?

"He's just jealous," Hermione said quickly.

"And he tried to ask out a girl yesterday," Ginny added, joining them. "It didn't turn out well. He sort of, yelled it at her, and then ran."

"Who?" Hermione asked.

"I think it was Lavendar, but I can't be sure. He wouldn't tell me," Ginny answered. "So," she said to Harry, "ready for the tournament?"

Harry nodded.

"Only if he'll learn theses spells!" Hermione said, frustrated.

Harry and Ginny ignored her. "Well, I'm sure everyone in the school will be rooting for you and not the bat," Ginny smirked. "I better go; I'm training to join the Quidditch team."

"You'll be great," Harry blurted. Oh why had he said that?

Ginny blushed. "Thanks."

As soon as Ginny had left, Hermione snapped her fingers in front of Harry. "Enough flirting! If you don't learn this now, Hogwarts will have to depend on Professor Snape."

That gave Harry enough determination to continue learning.


	9. Chapter 9

******Here we are! We have reached the First Task already! Using some objects from **

* * *

Chapter 9: The First Task

"Thank you all for coming!" Dumbledore's voice roared over the crowd. "Allow me to introduce Madame Maxime and her two champions from Beauxbatons: Ms. Fleur Delacour and Ms. Ivy Maude." The crowd cheered and gawked as the giantess headmistress made her way to the front of the room, followed by her two students. Dumbledore greeted the competitors and the Headmistress.

"Bloody hell," Ron gaped. "They look like they're ¾ Veela!"

"Veela?" Harry asked, but before Ron could answer, Dumbledore interrupted.

"And now for Durmstrang! Headmaster Igor Karkaroff, and his two champions: Viktor Krum and Ms. Anelie Desislava!"

They were dressed in thick furs from head to toe, so Harry concluded they were from somewhere bitter cold.

"It's Krum!" "It's Viktor Krum!" people whispered throughout the Hall.

"Think they'd be a little cooler around him," Ron muttered to Harry. Fred and George smirked. "Like you were after the Cup, eh, Ron?" they said together.

Ron's ears turned red. "Shut it."

"Welcome to all!" Umbridge said, standing up. If Dumbledore was annoyed at Umbridge's interruption, he gave no sign. "It gives me great pleasure to announce Hogwarts's champions: Harry Potter and Severus Snape!"

Harry got up and walked to the front, while Snape made his way around the staff table to greet the other teachers. Harry noted that one teacher had been picked from each school, along with a student.

"The First Task will begin shortly!" Umbridge said excitedly. "If you could all make your way to the grounds, Professor McGonagall in the red will show you the way," she coughed.

"Just this once, make use of your brains today, Potter," Snape said, walking beside him.

"You too," Harry answered.

Snape bit back a retort; as much as he hated to admit, he'd need Potter to help him complete these tasks.

"Your task is simple: answer the logic puzzle separately, write it on your riddle, and then await your partner on your school's hippogriff. You will race to the scrolls where your clue for the next task will be," Dumbledore explained. "Ready? 3…2…1… Begin."

Harry and Snape raced towards their individual puzzles. Harry read through once quickly, and then again several times.

_It cannot be seen, cannot be felt,  
Cannot be heard, cannot be smelt.  
It lies behind stars and under hills,  
And empty holes it fills.  
It comes first and follows after,  
Ends life, kills laughter._

'Think Harry, think,' Harry thought to himself. What was the answer? "Make use of your brain, Potter," Harry heard Snape's voice echoing in his head. 'Ends life,' he thought, 'Death!' Just as he was about to write it down, another line caught his eye. _Cannot be smelt._ 'You can definitely smell death,' Harry thought grimly, picturing rotting bodies and a putrid smell. What could fit this description? He couldn't let panic settle in him now. It was only the first task, and he mustn't worry himself into hopelessness. The sun was almost setting. It would be dark soon. _That's it! The dark!_ Harry smiled with satisfaction. He was never good at riddles...

"The dark," Harry wrote on his riddle, and then raced towards the Hogwarts Hippogriff. "Thank you, Hagrid," Harry mumbled. Harry bowed low, exposing his neck to whom Harry recognised as Buckbeak –renamed Featherwing. Snape was already sitting atop Featherwing, looking very impatient as Harry jump up and kicked Featherwing's side to start flying.

"Finally solve your riddle?" Snape sneered. Harry ignored him and focused on flying…until he caught a glimpse of Fleur. It wasn't until Snape barked at Harry to pay attention that Harry realised he was staring at the girl who was flying behind them. Urging Featherwing on, Harry tore his attention from the beautiful girl.

"Hogwarts is in the lead! Followed by Beauxbatons, then Durmstrang," Harry heard Lee Jordan's voice.

"Come on, hurry!" Harry whispered urgently to Featherwing. Flying through the air, wind whipped at their faces. Down below, there were shouts of encouragement, and Harry looked behind him: Beauxbatons was closing in. "Come on Featherwing!" Harry shouted encouragingly. Featherwing seemed to sense the need to move faster, because he started flapping his wings more frantically. Harry could see their scroll ahead, if he just reached out….

"Potter!" Snape exclaimed.

Harry fell off the hippogriff. Down…down…down. He seemed to be falling forever, scroll in hand, when he felt his speed slow. He was floating back up to the hippogriff!

"Don't let your overly large head unbalance you," Snape spat.

Harry just smiled. "I got the scroll, sir."

Snape nodded stiffly. Harry led them back down the grounds where the crowd greeted them.

"Good job, Severus," Dumbledore whispered as he congratulated him with a handshake. "Do not read the clue here, but do find the right time to do so."

"Of course," Snape answered.

After waiting a few minutes, and after being congratulated by fellow school mates, Harry turned to watch the event too, only find it was already done.

"Well done, well done," Dumbledore spoke, his voice louder thanks to his amplification spell. "In first place, Severus Snape and Harry Potter: Hogwarts's champions." Cheers erupted. "Second place goes to Fleur Delacour and Ivy Maude from Beauxbatons." It appeared to be mostly males clapping, while girlfriends swatted their boyfriends' arms. "And in third place," Dumbledore concluded, "Durmstrang's Viktor Krum and Anelie Desislava!" Now it was the girl's turn to cheer, and the boys to look jealously on.

The sun had now fully set, and it was time to go back to the castle to celebrate -Fred and George style. When all but the Headmaster remained, he meandered back towards the castle behind the fangirls and flustered boys following Krum and Fleur.

"Hormones," Dumbledore chuckled to himself.


	10. Chapter 10

**Who's ready for the second task? Ah well! You're going to have to wait another week! ;) Enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter 10: Celebration and Information

"Go on Harry, read it!" Ron urged when Harry, Hermione, and Ron were finally left alone.

_Day by day, year by year, you will always find_

_In dark or light, calm or fight, I'm deep inside your mind._

_You can't see me, nor hear thee, though I am always near_

_Use your mind and you will find, the greatest of your fears._

Harry looked at it; puzzled. Was there a hidden meaning or was it that simple?

"Your fears, Harry! You will face your fears!" Hermione exclaimed. "What did Professor Dumbledore do with the Mirror of Erised?" she asked.

"He told me he destroyed it," Harry replied. "But Hermione, the Mirror shows your greatest desires, not fears."

"Oh, I had forgotten," Hermione said.

"Well, your fear can't be that bad. I mean, You-Know-Who would be your greatest fear, right?" Ron asked.

Harry nodded, though deep down he knew it wasn't just Voldemort. It was Voldemort taking everyone away from him, and Harry losing the inevitable battle that would come.

* * *

"Severus, have you had a chance to read the scroll yet?" Dumbledore asked from behind his desk. Dumbledore had wanted to discuss any rumours of the Voldemort, but apparently not.

"No, the brat has had it since the first task," Severus answered.

"Before the next task, I must tell you very important details of what is to come," said Dumbledore. "You see, the second task will consist of conquering your greatest fear, and facing the Mirror of Erised. Both of which were Professor Umbridge's idea. Both of those challenges, create a problem for you."

"No one must know of my situation," Severus completed.

"Exactly. We need to create a way for you to face invented fears and an invented desire, without destroying your persona," Dumbledore described. "If we were to momentarily erase your memories of Lily and anything that will destroy your cover, and implant fake desires and fears, we can overcome this difficulty."

"You want to erase my memories of Lily?" Snape asked slowly. Severus felt a sting of betrayal. Lily was the only thing that truly kept him going. She was the reasoning behind many of his actions in the past few years, and to have her taken away from him -even for a little while...

"Not permanently," Dumbledore responded upon seeing Severus' hesitation. "We will remove and replace your fears, desires, and memories after the task."

Snape took in a deep breath. Would he really sacrifice that much for a stupid tournament? -one he didn't even want to be in? Was it really worth that much? _No, _a voice told him in the back of his mind, _this tournament isn't worth it._ _This has nothing to do with the war and everything to do with Potter wanting his Gryffindor victory. _Aloud, he asked, "Is there not another way?"

"No, Severus," Dumbledore answered quietly, sitting back in his chair, obviously awaiting Severus' outburst. Severus was, predictably, growing angry.

"Why should I have to forfeit everything for a tournament I do not wish to partake in!" Snape growled. "I never wanted to be in this tournament! I never wanted to work with that Potter brat! Why should I have to give up everything I find worth living for? Why should I have to give you my most precious memories and forget them even for a little while? Why?"

Dumbledore place his face in his hands. He took a steady breath before looking up at Snape, his eyes looking weary. "Severus, I understand everything you do and sacrifice already. This must be one of those things. We cannot afford for you to be caught as a spy. Not yet."

Severus clenched his fists. Arguing with Dumbledore would not get him anywhere. He could shout and argue with Dumbledore all night -all week- if he wanted to in order to get his way. Severus bit back a hurtful remark and with ease made himself look impassive. He pushed back all feelings into a tiny crate in the back of his mind and noticed for the first time he was standing. He folded his arms and did his best to remain calm. With a resigned sigh, he replied, "Whatever it takes to prevent suspicion."

"Thank you, Severus," smiled Dumbledore.

* * *

Snape had decided he would find Potter after dinner, retrieve the scroll, and then go to Dumbledore's office before the task tomorrow morning.

"Potter, I need the scroll. It will not do for me to be unaware of the challenges that lie ahead," Snape said calmly. He had added more walls around his mind. Potter could not do Legililmency, but it helped Snape with his temper. Especially after he learnt of Dumbledore's current plan for him.

"Here," Harry said, shoving the scroll at Snape. "See you tomorrow."

Snape turned on his heels and walked away. He didn't really need the scroll, but he wanted to prevent any suspicion that may arise... especially with the watchful eyes of Death Eater children.

"Ah Severus!" Dumbledore greeted when Snape entered his office. "I assume you are ready to undergo the removal and creation of your memories?"

Snape nodded once. Underneath his mask, he was seething. He did not want to let go of these memories. Let alone give them to Dumbledore. "Yes," he said evenly.

"Good," said Dumbledore. "If you could place your memories into this vial, and allow them to completely empty. Do not cling on to a single piece of Lily, your fears, or your role as our spy. I will emphasise on Lily, because she will certainly appear in the Mirror if you hang on to any memories."

Snape stood stiffly. "Whatever it takes," he replied and emptied everything he ever cared for into a tiny, cold bottle. He felt dead.


	11. Chapter 11

**A day late, I know, but my Internet hates me. Please review -I love hearing your opinions and thoughts on things! **

* * *

Chapter 11: The Second Task

"Ready, Potter?" Snape asked half-heartedly. How Potter felt about this task was none of Snape's concern. It was himself he needed to worry about. Even though Dumbledore had replaced his memories and desires, he still hoped he hadn't clung on to the only person who made him truly happy... it made him feel completely hollow knowing that he couldn't remember who it was. He had no recollection of any memories consciously, and felt as though he had lost himself. Who exactly was he?

"Yes, sir," Harry answered stiffly. "Will you be going first?"

"We shall see," answered Dumbledore as he walked into the champions' tent. "You must all draw from this bag, and whatever your number is, is the position you will be in." He held out a purple bag. "Since Mr. Potter and Professor Snape finished first in the previous task, they will be the first to choose."

"Second," Snape read aloud. His voice usually monotone now sounded absolutely dead; no emotion or inflection behind it.

"Sixth," Harry said. _Brilliant,_ Harry thought, _I'm last._

"And now Ms. Delacour and Professor Maude," Dumbledore announced.

"I will go première," Fleur said nervously.

"And I will go troisième," Maude exclaimed.

Professor Desislava drew from the bag. "Fourth."

"And I vill go fifth," Krum concluded.

"Good luck to you all," Albus said seriously before exiting the tent.

"May de best school vin," Krum added.

"Good luck, Professor," Harry called out as Snape made his way out of the tent. He thought he heard a grumble of appreciation, but he couldn't be sure.

Harry started pacing the tent. One after the other, the other competitors left the tent, and didn't come back in. When Krum left, Harry's nerves were threatening to take over. His hands shook, his teeth were chattering, and he felt sick to his stomach. His pacing had quickened, and Harry wanted to run. After a loud cheer, a canon went off. Finally, it was Harry's turn.

"Last but not least, Hogwarts' Student Champion: Harry Potter," Dumbledore's voice echoed through the stadium.

_Stay calm, and you'll pass. Panic, and you'll…_

Harry was faced with a nasty boggart. His nerves dissolved as it immediately turned into Lord Voldemort.

_He's not worth the title, and he's not worth the fear,_ Harry thought to himself.

"Riddikulus!" Harry shouted. Voldemort turned into a puffy, alien balloon. Before he could move however, the balloon-Voldemort turned into a dementor. He tried his best to conjure a happy thought. He could feel them diminishing faster than he could collect them. The boggart-dementor glided over to him, reaching a dead claw-like hand towards him. Harry could feel his sight start to fade. There was no happiness inside him now. But he couldn't let himself faint! He pictured his mum and dad dancing and twirling in a picture taken just after they were married. He pictured them holding him and loving him. He pictured Ron and Hermione by his side until the end.

"Expecto Patronum!" Harry shouted. His silver stag charged at the dementor, which diminished it. A couple of "ooh"s and "ahh"s could be heard from the crowd. Harry absently wondered why he let the dementor that close in the first place.

He then followed the cobblestone path until he reached … a mirror. It wasn't just a normal mirror, however. No, it was the Mirror of Erised. Hermione had been right; sometimes your greatest desire can turn into your greatest fear or biggest obstacle.

_Don't focus on it,_ Harry urged himself. _They're dead and you know it. There is no spell to raise the dead, and there never will be._

The scroll for the next task was above the mirror, floating, taunting him. There was no way for him to grab it unless he looked into the mirror. He forced himself to stop stalling and took a glance.

_Mom…Dad…_

It was just like first year when he first laid eyes on his parents. He could feel his heart flutter in hope, and then drop at the memories. They were dead.

"Snap yourself out of it, Potter," Snape growled from his spot on the sidelines. He couldn't remember why he felt like he needed to protect him; it was instinct.

Harry almost sat down just to watch. He could, if he really wanted to. This was just a stupid tournament; not important. The cheering of Ron and Hermione from the stands snapped him out of these thoughts. He jumped up to grab the scroll, and was greeted by cheers.

"That will conclude our Second Task. Professor Snape is in first place, with a time of 3:31; Viktor Krum is in second with a time of 3:52; third, Harry Potter, with a time of 4:04; fourth, Fleur with a time of 4:05; fifth, Professor Desislava with a time of 4:17; and sixth, Professor Maude, with a time of 4:20," McGonagall's voice boomed through the stadium.

"Next month, the Third Task will take place," Dumbledore said, "Use your scrolls to help your preparation. The overall standings are this: Hogwarts in first, with 13 points, followed by Durmstrang with 11 points, and Beauxbatons with 9 points."

Harry opened his scroll, and read the brief description aloud, feeling his stomach drop. "One will survive."


	12. Chapter 12

**Yay! We've already reached chapter 12! Many thanks to Saint Snape and Princess Twila for their continues reviews! Feedback is encouraged and welcome! **

* * *

Chapter 12: The Attack

Harry spent the day after as well as the following weeks procrastinating with Ron and ignoring Hermione's protests.

_A fight to the death,_ Harry reminded himself every day –each day his hatred for Umbridge increasing, _And it's all Umbridge's doing._

The last two tasks had been a week apart, in which the teachers decided to cancel classes. Now, with the third task months away, the classes would resume. Hermione had taken to nagging Harry about the third task.

"You need to prepare, Harry!" she exclaimed for the umpteenth time when Harry and Ron played their seventh game of Exploding Snaps in a row. "This isn't something luck can help you with. You will be fighting to the _death_," she emphasised.

"I know," dismissed Harry, laying down a card. "Look, I know you're worried, and I thank you, but I will start preparing when we get closer to the task."

Hermione bit her lip as if to repress further nagging and reluctantly nodded. She began to chat to Ron about Quidditch.

_Odd. She doesn't even like Quidditch,_ Harry thought. Ron seemed to notice too. When Hermione left to get her books, his eyes followed her in confusion.

* * *

"Good afternoon, class," said Umbridge cheerfully.

"Good afternoon, Professor Umbridge," the class replied dully.

"Today we will be reading chapter 15 in our books. Wands away! There will be no need to talk! Any questions before we begin?" she asked. Harry was going to raise his hand, but decided against it. "No? Very well. Begin."

_Focus, Harry, focus,_ Harry tried his best to concentrate once again in the horrid classroom of the toad. But he was so tired… so very very tired. He hadn't gotten much sleep the night previous. He fought to keep his eyes open, but it was a losing battle; his head hit the pages before he could read the first word. He was slithering, his tough, scaly plates smoothly gliding over the building's ground. He could feel the cool stone against his scales.

_Kill, kill the protector…kill…_

The power of his muscles propelled him forward towards a door; a black door that concealed something he needed. The door opened and he glided into the room. A red haired man with glasses stood just out of reach, wand at the ready, and calling out.

_Kill…kill…_

Harry lunged at the man, gouging a fatal bite at his neck. The man's blood started to gush out as Harry attacked again. 1, 2, 3 more times before the man lay limp on the floor… Mr. Weasley…

_Harry! Harry! Mr. Potter, are you all right_‽_ Get him to the hospital wing! No! Professor Dumbledore!_

Harry opened his eyes. Ron looked sick to his stomach, and Hermione was wide-eyed. Professor McGonagall came bustling in, stepping over a quite unconscious Umbridge.

"Come with me, Potter," McGonagall said urgently.

Drenched in sweat and ready to vomit, Harry shakily stood up and with the aid of McGonagall, walked briskly to the Headmaster's office. Harry threw up as McGonagall summoned a bucket.

"Sorry," Harry choked as another round of vomit appeared.

"No need to apologise, Mr. Potter," she replied, "we need to get you to the Headmaster. Can you make it to the office?"

Harry nodded weakly. McGonagall put one hand on his shoulder and the other under his arm to support and steer him. What seemed like hours later, Harry was sitting in the Headmaster's office, bucket in hand, and listening to Professor Dumbledore.

"What was this dream of yours, Mr. Potter?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry recalled the attack. "Sir, I wasn't the snake, was I?" he asked.

Dumbledore ignored him, and instead began talking to the portraits. "Make sure Mr. Weasley is all right," he instructed. He then began talking to Phineas Nigellus.

"Sir, what's happening to me?" Harry repeated, begging with his voice and his eyes for answers. Much to Harry's growing frustration, Dumbledore did not even make eye contact with him and instead turned to Professor McGonagall.

"Minerva, would you please bring the Weasley children and Hermione Granger to my office?" he asked. Professor McGonagall nodded and left for Gryffindor Tower.

"Sir, please; I need to know!" Harry's plea was much louder this time, and anger began to course through him when Dumbledore ignored him a third time, instead taking a teacup and muttering a rather long and complicated incantation over it.

"Professor Dumbledore!" Harry stood up, and yet Dumbledore did not even spare him a glance.

"LOOK AT ME!" Harry bellowed. Dumbledore finally brought his blue eyes up to Harry's, and yet he remained silent. A new and more consuming wave of anger washed over Harry, and he glared and seethed at Dumbledore, feeling the snake rise inside of him. He wanted to kill again, he wanted to lash out, to feel and taste the blood spurting from Dumbledore's neck…

"Never, Harry," Dumbledore answered. Harry was filled with dread when he realised Dumbledore could read his mind. "After this tournament I will have Severus instruct you on a few particular things to prevent this from happening again."

Ginny burst into the Headmaster's office, looking panicked. The other Weasley's and Hermione filed in behind her, all looking worried.

"He will live," Dumbledore said quickly, raising a hand.

_But for how long?_ Harry worried.

"This portkey will transport you to Grimmauld Place, where you will stay for tonight and tomorrow, returning the day after that," said Dumbledore. "Off you go."

The Weasley's, Harry and Hermione put their hands on the teapot. Just as the portkey was about to leave, Harry got the feeling to attack again.

"Remember yourself, Harry. Remember who you are," whispered Dumbledore just as the portkey took them away.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13 is here! Yay! For those of you who were wondering exactly why Umbridge fainted, I will post it at the bottom of this chapter. Questions/predictions/thoughts/etc. are encouraged!**

* * *

Chapter 13: Punishments and Relief

Upon arriving at Grimmauld Place, Sirius bolted into the main hallway. He hugged Harry and promptly said, "Phineas told me what happened," gesturing to an empty picture. "Why don't we all sit in the kitchen and have a butterbeer or two."

The Weasleys, Hermione and Harry followed Sirius into the kitchen. They sat in the chairs and talked little, only ever asking for the time. Ginny had curled up in her chair like a cat, staring blankly at the floor beneath her, and Hermione had laid her head on Ron's shoulder. Fred and George stared at their mugs, while Sirius downed his drink in one gulp. Harry tightened his grip on his butterbeer, knuckles turning white with the force he was using. It was his fault that Mr. Weasley had been attacked. Harry had been the one to lunge at him. To watch the blood gush from the wounds, to only want to kill…

"Harry," Sirius said quietly. "Can I talk to you in the drawing room?"

Harry nodded, and stiffly stood up from his chair. They must have been sitting there for at least a couple of hours, but no one had moved. Once they reached the drawing room, Sirius spoke. "You've been brooding again, Harry. I'd like to know what blame you place upon yourself now."

Harry looked up, eyes slightly wider with fright. "I attacked Mr. Weasley."

Sirius glanced sharply at him. "How?"

"I was the snake," Harry continued shakily. "I was slithering down the corridor I've been dreaming about for months. It looked like one of the corridors in the Ministry where I had my trial." Sirius gave a startled look, but quickly composed himself. "In the dreams, I had never opened the door before. This time, I did. I saw Mr. Weasley guarding a door, and I got the notion to kill. I heard the snake hissing _kill_ in Parseltongue. I was the snake that attacked Mr. Weasley."

"It was just a dream, Harry. Nothing more," whispered Sirius comfortingly.

"But it happened miles away," Harry pointed out. "I was the snake in the dream, and while I was dreaming, a snake attacked Mr. Weasley. You don't understand, I wasn't beside the snake, I _was_ the snake. I heard its thoughts, I felt its emotions, and _I_ attacked!" he cried.

Sirius hugged Harry, communicating as many unsaid words as he could.

"What if I'm turning into Voldemort?" Harry whispered frightfully into Sirius' shoulder. "What if I'm becoming like _him_?"

"You're not becoming like him," Sirius said fiercely, holding Harry out in front of him. "These visions are not you! You're still yourself, so much like your father and mother. Whilst this Triwizard Tournament is going on, everyone is a bit overwhelmed and busy, but I promise you, Harry, I promise you that once this year is over we will help you block out these visions. Do you understand?"

Harry nodded gratefully. "Good," sighed Sirius, pulling Harry into another hug. "But just in case you get another one of these visions, here is a mirror that your father and I used to communicate with when we were in separate detentions."

Harry took the mirror Sirius handed to him and looked carefully at it. "I can talk to you whenever I want?"

"Whenever you want," Sirius confirmed. "It will shrink to fit in your pocket, and expand when you want to call. Mine hangs on the wall in the study. If I say your name into the mirror, it will grow hot to let you know that I am calling. If you say my name –not Snuffles– it will beep to let me know. Remember though, if you put that down on a table, I can take a glimpse through mine and see through yours. So no snogging girls while you've got that laying around," Sirius joked.

Harry turned crimson, an image of a particular red-headed girl filled his mind. Sirius ruffled his hair. "That's my godson."

They returned to the kitchen in a slightly better mood, and soon after sitting down, Molly came bursting into the kitchen. Everyone lifted their heads expectantly, and Molly burst into tears. "He's okay! He's okay!" she cried.

Harry stood up and went to hug her. "Thank you… thank you, Harry," she whispered over and over. After regaining some composure, she said still half crying, "H-he is at-t h-home now, resting-g. Y-you can all visit him t-tonight, or r-rather, this m-morning if-f you wi-wish. D-dumbledore arrived j-just in ti-time. They-y were going-g t-to declare him d-d-dead in a f-few minutes. D-dumbledore g-gave him P-phoenix tears."

"Fawkes healed Dad?" Ron asked.

Molly nodded while sniffling. "Phoenix tears can heal anything, Ron."

Harry put his hand on his scar. Fawkes had already healed a Basilisk bite, but deep down he knew Fawkes could never heal his lightning scar.

* * *

"Harry!" Arthur Weasley cried cheerfully from his bed. After everyone had ate breakfast in a much more cheerful mood, they headed to the Burrow where Mr. Weasley was resting. "I cannot thank you enough, my dear boy!"

Harry smiled weakly. "I'm glad you're feeling better, Mr. Weasley."

"I'm almost completely healed! I can't thank you enough, Harry! If it weren't for you, I likely wouldn't be here!"

The happy chatter turned quiet, the sorrowful ending that could have happened if Harry hadn't dosed off turned the mood somber.

"You're fine now, Arthur, and that's all that matters," Mrs. Weasley said tearfully. "Oh dear! Look at the time! Dumbledore wanted you back today! Everyone, grab the teapot on the table, yes, that one."

The hook-like feeling latched behind their bellybuttons and dragged them back to Dumbledore's office, where the Headmaster was waiting for them. He looked disappointed, but not with them.

"Messrs. Weasley, Miss Weasley and Ms. Granger may go to the Gryffindor Tower for what looks like some much needed sleep…however, I am afraid, Mr. Potter, that Professor Umbridge was not impressed with your little scene yesterday, and has demanded detention with you this morning," said Dumbledore.

Harry's shoulders slumped. Though this was nothing compared to a sleepless night at the Dursley's, he was still tired. He followed the Weasleys and Hermione out of the office, getting many thank-you's Harry felt he did not deserve. He thought he should be blamed, but they didn't know that _he_ had been the snake. And that guilt press on his chest like a ton of bricks.

"Ah Mr. Potter, I've been expecting you," Umbridge greeted at her office door. "Please, take a seat."

Harry took the offered seat and stared blankly at her.

"I'd like you to answer some questions today, and then we will begin your detention," she explained. "Now," she took a sip of tea, "what exactly happened yesterday during my class?"

_Like hell I'll answer your questions truthfully._

"Nightmare," Harry replied.

"I see," she said slowly. "Mr. Potter, where did you go after you were escorted to Professor Dumbledore's office?"

"Nowhere," he answered.

"I do not like liars, Mr. Potter," Umbridge stated.

"I'm not lying," he fired back defiantly. Umbridge's mouth twitched. She smiled sweetly.

"Then we will begin your detention. I'd like you to write lines for me, this morning. I will provide the quill and paper, you won't be needing any ink."

Harry gave Umbridge a quizzical look, but she ignored him.

"I'd like you to write, 'I must not tell lies.' Is that clear?"

Harry mumbled, "Yes. How many lines?"

"As many as it takes for the message to… sink in."

Harry began writing the instructed lines. The more and more he wrote, the more and more his left hand ached. He brushed it off as a freak thing, until his hand started bleeding on the page, and his writing was as red as the droplets that dripped off his hand.

"Is there a problem?" Umbridge asked from her seat at her desk.

"No," growled Harry. He would not give her such satisfaction. He continued to write until his hand was so sore he couldn't move it. The blood had dripped down his hand and left a puddle on the desk and stained the paper.

"You are done the lines. Now, I have one last punishment for you and then you may leave," Umbridge said sinisterly. "Stand up."

Harry did as she bid, arms pressed tightly to his sides. A trail of blood flowed from his hand down his pant leg and to the floor. Umbridge carefully placed the Fudge photo face down and gave a smirk. "He doesn't need to know everything," she said, and then she raised her wand to his eye level, her eyes filled with excitement and content.

"Crucio," she whispered.

Harry's knees buckled and he bit his lip until it, too, bled. He was on the ground, hands balled into fists, and trying his best not to scream aloud. Fire was coursing through his veins, burning him. He thrashed again and again as the pain built. And then it stopped.

"I believe that has woken you from your pile of lies. Should you lie to me again, we will go a little longer with this…effective way," Umbridge smiled.

Harry stood up and glared at her, and left. He clutched his left hand, making his way to the Tower. He had wrapped his hand in his cloak, and already it had bled through. He felt weak and light-headed. He was losing a lot of blood. His left hand was completely numb now and almost transparent. He didn't want to go see Madame Pomfrey. She would ask questions. He needed someone he could trust...

_I'll wake Hermione,_ he thought guiltily. _She'll know what to do._

* * *

**So for those of you that are curious, this is what I imagined after Harry fell asleep in DADA:**

_Harry started hissing in Parseltongue the moment he fell asleep, and as he got closer to attack Mr. Weasley, his hissing became louder and more noticeable to more students. Umbridge, upon seeing the distraction, walked up to Harry and tried to wake him. He wouldn't wake. She heard a snippet of his Parseltongue and ran to the door to go complain to someone, but before she reached the door, Harry let out a rather loud scream saying "Mr. Weasley!" upon almost awakening. The loud noise startled Umbridge and she passed out, and the yelling alerted McGonagall._

**_What was your interpretation? ~Inspired178_**


	14. Chapter 14

**Thanks to Princess Twila for beta-ing and reviewing every chapter without fail; thanks to Saint Snape for reviewing almost as often as Princess Twila; and to Kairan1979 for their inquisitive questions and awesome predictions! **

**We're getting close to the end folks so keep the questions coming! Love, Inspired178.**

* * *

Chapter 14: Fights and Letters

_Please be up, please be up,_ Harry begged silently. He sighed with relief when he saw Hermione sitting in the Common Room with Ginny. The rest were still asleep. It was, after all, around 5 o'clock on a Saturday morning.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Ginny asked, pointing at Harry's hand that was wrapped in his cloak, soaked with blood.

"Detention," he answered quickly. "Do you think you can heal it, Hermione?"

Hermione looked up from her book with a surprised expression etched on her face. "You don't normally want wounds dealt with."

"I know, but this one stings quite a bit more than normal wounds," he answered, unwrapping his hand. He dizzily swayed on his feet. Hermione and Ginny got up to stand beside him. Ginny supported him while Hermione looked at the wound. His had was still bleeding and from the elbow down, his arm was limp. His limp arm reminded him much of Second Year when Lockhart had tried to heal a broken bone. His shoulder began to tingle with oncoming numbness

Ginny gasped. "Who did this?"

"Umbridge," said Harry through gritted teeth as Hermione made a particularly painful prod at his shoulder. "Some quill that writes with your own blood."

"The Blood Quill," Hermione whispered, still looking at his arm. "Harry, we need Essence of Murlap to stop the bleeding. I don't have any materials to make it, but…" she stopped as if she knew Harry was going to protest, "Professor Snape might."

"No!" Harry said vehemently as predicted. "He'll just be a git as usual. Besides, Umbridge can't have the satisfaction of me running to a teacher for help."

"We have to, Harry, otherwise it will get infected," Hermione replied logically.

With his arm completely useless, he let out a sigh and reluctantly said, "Fine," and allowed Hermione to drag him towards the dungeons.

It was still dark out and only the ghosts could be found roaming the halls of Hogwarts. Each footstep felt like a canon shooting in a cave. Harry thanked Fred and George over and over again in his head for giving him the Marauder's Map, and thanked Dumbledore for giving him his dad's cloak. As they neared Snape's classroom, Harry began to become nervous.

"Hermione, won't Snape still be asleep?" Harry whispered.

Hermione shrugged. "Does it really matter?"

_Yes,_ thought Harry. Snape's hatred of him would escalate the earlier they woke him. Harry winced when Hermione reached up to Snape's door and knocked. _Please be awake. Please be awake. Please be awake…_ he chanted in his head.

"Come in," Snape called from behind the door. He sounded exhausted, but not the bleary just-woke-up exhausted, more of a have-been-up-all-night kind.

Hermione pushed Harry into the classroom. When Snape laid eyes on Harry, his eyes betrayed a hint of confusion. Already nauseous and weak, Harry collapsed into the chair in front of Snape's desk. "We need Essence of Murlap, Professor," said Hermione.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "At five o'clock in the morning?"

"Detention with Umbridge, sir," Hermione answered.

Harry reluctantly lifted his left arm with his right hand and placed it limply on Snape's desk. "Blood Quill," he muttered.

Snape took one look at the hand, and then summoned three potions. "How many lines did you write? Did she use any other form of corporal punishment?"

"I don't know," Harry shrugged, "one hundred fifty or more."

Snape's gaze stared angrily into Harry's. "You did not answer my other question, Potter."

Harry was taken aback. "Sorry, sir?"

"What other form of punishments has Umbridge used, Potter?" Snape questioned.

Harry flushed. "Nothing. Only the Blood Quill."

"You're lying, Potter," Snape sneered. "Now, tell me the truth."

"She used Crucio on me," Harry replied quietly. When Hermione gasped, Harry said quickly, "It's fine! I'm fine, it wasn't that painful and it wasn't that bad." Harry's blush deepened when his leg gave an involuntary twitch, followed by a course of pain.

Snape noticed, and rolled his eyes. "The Cruciatus Curse is designed to torture the receiver," he said sharply. "It will not be painless and certainly not side-effect free. You will get a migraine soon and have... involuntary twitches," he smirked, nodding to Harry's leg, "but by tomorrow you should be up to your usual Gryffindor antics and arrogant nature. Now, pour this over your hand, drink the other two immediately, and retire to bed. After an experience with the Cruiciatus Curse, you should sleep for the better part of today and tonight. Off you go, before the Slytherins wake."

Harry stood up and nodded at Hermione. Harry wondered absently why Snape was so informed of the Cruciatus Curse.

"Potter," Snape called before Harry left.

"Yes?" Harry asked. "Sir?" he added hastily.

"The Third Task will not be easy, and I suggest you begin preparing now. It will not do for you to be unprepared."

Harry nodded and left. When he returned to the tower, Hedwig was flapping her wings outside, and tapping her beak on the window: she wanted in.

"C'mere girl," Harry said softly. Hedwig gave Harry the letter, nipped his finger affectionately, and flew back to the owlery. Harry opened the letter, and started to read.

_Mr. Potter,_

_All across the wizarding world yours and your teammate's face have been broadcasted onto every viewing screen possible. While Hogwarts may be in the lead for now, I would not count on your luck to get you through on top. You have strong competitors, and an even stronger one outside of the competition. The Dark Lord will rise once again, joined by his followers; they __will __find you and they __will __dispose of you. You've been lucky up until now, but as the Dark Lord gains strength, the most powerful wizard loses it. That's right; your precious Albus Dumbledore will not be all-powerful forever. The Dark Lord will rule the world, Muggles will be put in their proper place, and __you__ will die._

_You can't be always lucky._

_XXX_

Harry's eyes widened. Dumbledore was dying. How had that gone unnoticed by Harry? He didn't care about his own life in this matter; Voldemort and his followers were always trying to kill him. But Dumbledore, he was always so powerful and strong, and yet now he was reduced to a tiring, greying, weak man. Harry could not imagine Hogwarts without Dumbledore, and he hoped he would never have to face that reality. Folding the letter and putting it back in its envelope, Harry shoved it under his pillow to look at later; right now he needed to talk to Professor Dumbledore. Racing out of the common room, Harry bolted to the Headmaster's office. When he reached the gargoyles, he guessed a candy ("Lemon Drops"). The gargoyles moved aside, and Harry raced up the staircase. Knocking on the door, Harry sighed with relief when Albus Dumbledore called "Come in," from his office. Opening the door, Harry walked in as calmly as he could.

"Good morning, Harry," Dumbledore greeted, "I would have thought you would be asleep now." His eyes flitted to Harry's now bandaged arm, but said nothing.

Harry shook his head, "I couldn't, sir. Sorry if I interrupted anything, but I need to talk to you about something."

Dumbledore sat up straighter, his hands folded pointing upwards. "Have a seat, Harry." Harry sat down in his usual chair, and looked carefully at Dumbledore. His blue eyes were faded, his face was worn, and his posture was ever so slightly slouched.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Dumbledore asked, looked curiously into Harry's eyes.

"After my detention, Hedwig delivered a letter," Harry began. "And… okay, I know you can read minds or something, so I'll just spit it out: I'm worried about you, Professor."

Dumbledore smiled. "May I ask why?" Harry shifted uncomfortably. If Dumbledore could read minds, why did he have to make Harry say it aloud?

Harry blushed, "You're…I mean…it's just that…you look…"

"I'm getting old, Harry," Dumbledore chuckled. "You don't have to be polite about it. Age is getting to me."

"You're not going to die, are you?" Harry whispered childishly.

Dumbledore sighed and leaned back in his chair. "My dear Harry, everyone must die at some point, and there is nothing to fear about death. After all, to the well-organised mind, death is but the next great adventure. Do not worry about me, Harry. It should be the other way around. Now, what were you saying about the letter?"

Harry wanted to talk more about Dumbledore himself, but his tone suggested that the topic was over. "The letter was nothing," he mumbled. "Just a bit of a warning to me and a hint that you were dying."

"I see," Dumbledore replied. "Was this letter signed?"

"Not really," Harry shook his head. "Just XXX."

"Then do not worry yet, we will sort it out. In the meantime, I believe you should be preparing for the Third Task, yes?" Dumbledore dismissed.

Harry stood up, "Yes sir, thank you, sir."

"You're quite welcome," Dumbledore smiled. "Off you go, I believe Miss Weasley was looking for you earlier."

Harry smiled and left, pushing all thoughts of the letter to the back of his mind.


	15. Chapter 15

_**I'm currently trying to get this chapter up for viewing! A lot of people can't see it... let me know when you can!**_

**We've reached the Final Task! What do you think will happen?**

**Review and let me know! Love, Inspired178**

* * *

Chapter 15: The Final

Harry examined his arm and hand as he zipped up his Hogwarts track suit. The phrase "I must not tell lies" was carved into his hand. The scar would most likely never fade away. He quickly covered his arm and hand when Seamus Finnigan walked into the dorm.

"Got a letter for ye, Harry," he said cheerfully, "from Snape."

Harry took the letter from Seamus and thanked him. "No problem, good luck today!" Seamus replied before leaving.

Harry slowly opened the letter. What could Snape possibly have to tell Harry now?

_Potter,_

_If you haven't been basking in your Gryffindor glory all night, you are aware that third task will take place after supper tonight. However, I believe I should tell you a few things about this task beforehand. You know where my office is; be there by 1:00pm, or face the consequences._

_Prof. Snape_

Harry closed up the letter and tucked it into his pocket. It was almost 1 o'clock now; Harry decided to make his way to the dungeons with the help of his Invisibility Cloak: he didn't want to raise suspicion.

"Where're you going, Harry?" Ron asked when Harry opened the portrait hole. Harry quickly shushed him.

"Snape wants to see me," Harry answered in a hushed tone. "I think he may know something of the task tonight."

"Good. Don't let Snape take any points from Gryffindor, and if you see Malfoy, punch him. Hermione came back a few minutes ago crying because Malfoy had threatened her and stuff. I would have gone for him myself if I hadn't been…" he turned red," y'know…" he trailed off.

Harry nodded. "Comforting Hermione," he completed. "No worries, if I see him, I'll get him."

Ron clapped Harry's back. "See you at supper."

Harry threw the Invisibility Cloak over him, and made his way to Snape's office. Unfortunately, there was no sign of Malfoy yet.

"Finally decide that I was worth some of your time? Or did you get caught up in the…fan club," Snape asked sarcastically when Harry threw open the office door. Snape was sitting at his desk, his greasy black hair laying limply on his shoulders, his black eyes looking shallow and empty, unlike everyone else's which were deep and lively. His placid skin was paler in the brassier light of his office, and piles of parchment were stacked on his desk. Many had plenty of red marks and notes in the same cramped handwriting that was in Harry's letter.

Harry bit back a retort to the comment. He couldn't fight with him so close to the final task. Instead, he sat down in front of Snape's desk, and waited.

Snape seemed not particularly concerned with immediately telling Harry all of the details. After marking a paragraph in one of the essays, he finally spoke, "The Headmaster has informed me of a few crucial details to the Third Task, and found it prudent that I tell you them as well," he began slowly as if carefully constructing his words so he would not reveal anything he didn't feel necessary. "This task will try your power, your skill, and your survival instincts. There will be death, and there will be injuries," he looked at Harry now. He narrowed his eyes in sternness, "I will not be protecting your back every time a spell is cast, so I expect you to be prepared, and don't lose your head. Am I clear?" Snape asked sharply.

"Yes, sir," Harry replied.

"Good," said Snape. "Go off with your friends to do your Gryffindor celebrations now, when the task comes, I expect that big head of yours to find its intelligence and use it. Now get out."

Harry rushed out of the room, closing the door behind him. He was extremely nervous for the task to come, and if Snape was, he didn't show it. Before long, Harry was toying with his supper; too nervous to eat.

"Just eat _something_," Hermione begged, "You'll need your strength."

To stop Hermione from nagging, Harry ate some steak and a bite of potatoes. He felt nauseous, but forced himself to calm down.

"We're placing bets on you, Harry," George said from down the table.

"Already have 60 galleons betting you'll win!" said Fred.

Harry forced a smile.

"If you do win, we'll make sure to send that toilet seat you've been wanting," George joked.

With the twins still joking around, Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione, but something else caught his eye. Ginny was sitting by Neville, her fiery hair catching the candlelight, making it seem as if it were set alight. Her brown eyes filled with hidden worry as she glimpsed over at Harry. She smiled at him when she saw he was looking. Harry thought his nerves would get him and he would look away, but he didn't. When Ginny laughed and turned back to her conversation, Harry focused on something just past her: Umbridge. She was eating her supper and looking out at the students. Her face was flushed slightly with anger, embarrassment, or perhaps she had had one too many goblets of Firewhiskey –Harry couldn't tell from the distance. Looking at all the teachers, Harry observed that Dumbledore, McGonagall and Snape were the ones who touched the least of their food.

"Are you all right, Harry?" Luna asked, breaking Harry away from his thoughts. Dessert was now on the table, and a few people had already left the Great Hall. "You seem as though you have too many Nargles floating around in your head."

Harry held back a laugh. "Thank you for telling me, Luna, I'll get that fixed shortly."

"It will work better if you're balancing an apple on your nose while a thestral nips at your feet," Luna said seriously.

He smiled. "Thank you for the advice."

"You're welcome," Luna said serenely. "Good luck tonight!"

_Good luck I'll need,_ Harry thought.

* * *

Harry sat silently in the competitor tent. It was a clear, dark night; the stadium was illuminated by floating orbs of light. Minister Fudge himself had attended, and was sitting next to Umbridge, who was talking animatedly to him. Dumbledore was discussing some serious matter to Karkaroff and Maxime, both of whom seemed edgy. Maxime kept searching the crowd while Karkaroff kept nervously touching his left forearm. His long red cloak was flapping in the wind that had picked up since dinner. Harry knew this task would be difficult, he knew it could lead to his demise, but he also knew he could survive if he focused.

"Enjoying the audience, Potter?" Snape asked when he appeared in the tent. He too, wore a Hogwarts track suit, but his was all black with a silver zipper and a single green stripe running down each arm.

Harry turned towards Snape. "Look, I know you don't like me," Snape interrupted, "How observant, Potter." Harry ignored it, "The feeling is mutual," he continued, "but tonight we have to work together. We're battling to the death, and there is only ever one champion. But they have to let us both win if we are the last surviving. I don't care how much you ridicule me after this, how many detentions you give, but we need to work together on this task, and we need to win."

Snape pressed his lips together, "Excellent pep talk, Potter, it is almost as if you have some intelligent creature lurking in that daftly large head of yours," it was obvious to Harry that it would take a lot of effort on Snape's part to work as a team.

Krum and Anelie were talking quietly from across the tent. Both were wearing red jackets and black pants, with the Durmstrang crest on their left breast: a red deer skull with long horns in a 'U' shape, with two symmetrical yellow birds with a few feathers stretching out beyond the containment of the deer horns. They were talking heatedly in Bulgarian, and Harry concluded they must be strategizing.

In another corner, Fleur Delacour and Ivy were nervously talking in French.

_Probably strategizing as well,_ Harry thought. _Too bad they can speak English too; Professor Snape and I haven't talked about our strategy at all._

"Professor," Harry asked quietly, "what is our strategy?"

Snape smirked. "Use your head, fire your spells, and _don't lose your wand_," Snape emphasised.

_Count on him to be sarcastic now,_ Harry thought wearily. He was interrupted from his worrying thoughts by the sound of Dumbledore's voice echoing throughout the stadium.

"Welcome all to the Triwizard Tournament! The final task is here! 6 competitors from 3 schools will compete for victory! Good luck to all the champions, and may the best school win!" Dumbledore announced.

Umbridge quickly amplified her voice when she realised Dumbledore was through. "Attention all! Attention! Hem. Hem," she gave a petite cough. "As Professor Dumbledore already announced, this is the final task. What he didn't know, is that the Ministry has decided that to 'raise the stakes' if you will. All champions competing will be competing to the death along with many _volunteers_ who have offered to battle to death in the arena as well. Only one champion will win, and only one champion will have the privilege to work with Minister Cornelius Fudge!" Umbridge said cheerfully as though Christmas had come early. A few people applauded lazily. Harry had the urge to vomit. "The schools will enter from 3rd to 1st into the stadium. So, without further ado, Beauxbatons' Professor Maude and Miss Fleur Delacour!"

The students from Beauxbatons cheered loudly with their giantess Headmistress. "From Durmstrang, Professor Desislava and Viktor Krum!" Durmstrang's students cheered and hollered from the stands. A couple of girls held a poster of Krum up; it was magically charmed to blow kisses at the two girls holding the poster. "And Hogwarts' champions, Professor Snape and Harry Potter!" Harry took a deep breath and entered the stadium. They were in a grassy plain with trees on the left, which made up the Forbidden Forest. Harry highly doubted the "volunteers" did as much.

"Nothing is out of bounds, Potter," Snape murmured beside him. "Use your landscape, as you are familiar with the Forest, and _use your head._"

Harry gave a sharp nod and created a mini plan in his head. He would run for cover, and then hopefully come up with another idea. Since Avada Kedavra was not legal in this Tournament or at all, he'd have to come up with other ideas to destroy. _But I'm not a killer,_ Harry thought guiltily.

"On the count of three!" Umbridge said in her girlish voice. "One! Two!" A cannon went off signalling the start, and Harry bolted for the cover of the trees. He looked back just as he reached cover to see Snape heading for nearby boulders. Harry watched Snape block spell after spell lazily, before casting a few of his own. Harry realised just how good of a wizard Snape was as he duelled: quick, precise, and silent.

_Who do I go for first?_ Harry thought desperately. Fleur and Desislava were battling, and so were Snape, Krum, and Maude. The "volunteers" were fighting amongst themselves mostly, but a few were trying to attack Fleur and Desislava.

Krum was very clumsy, and soon lost his wand. It wasn't Snape that killed him, though Harry was sure it would have been. Professor Maude from Beauxbatons sent blades after him, and Krum was cut into tiny little pieces. Harry felt disgusted. Why did it have to come to this? He stepped out of the shadows and into the grassy plain. He was no use at non-verbal spells, but if he took down Fleur first, then Snape could get Maude and Desislava.

_And then Snape would kill me,_ Harry thought. He didn't want to win, but he didn't want to die either. If only there was a medium. The Triwizard Cup would be around here somewhere. While everyone else was duelling, perhaps he should look for it.

The stands were to the east, the entrance was south, and the Forest was west. North or West. "Point me," Harry whispered to his wand. It spun round and round until it decided on Northwest. "Good compromise," Harry muttered and started off in the direction. He had been walking for at least 5 minutes, away from all the cheers and shouts when he heard a twig snap from behind him. Harry turned around quickly and discovered that no one was behind him. Slowly, with his wand raised, Harry began to walk again. Another twig snapped and Harry hid behind a tree. Someone was following him. Peeking around the tree trunk, he hastily ducked when a spell flew by his face.

"Come on out, Harry Potter!" A girl's voice taunted. "Come on out and face me!"

Harry stepped out from behind the tree, wand still raised, to see Fleur Delacour grinning. Where was her accent?

"I don't want to duel you," Harry stated bluntly. "Do you really want to kill me?"

Fleur's eyes were clouded and her voicing seemed off beat. "I do, Harry Potter."

This definitely wasn't Fleur talking. Her accent was gone, her posture was lazy, and her eyes were far away. "Fight back, Fleur. Fight the Imperius. This isn't you. Come back to Earth. Follow my voice until you are awake," he said quietly.

He could see struggling behind her eyes, and the curse seemed weak. "Come back, Fleur. Come back for Gabrielle," he said.

Fleur gasped and then panted, doubling over blinking her eyes rapidly. " Arry Potter!"

"Imperius Curse. Be careful of your surroundings. Someone was controlling you."

"Who?"

"I don't know," said Harry, shaking his head. "I do know to keep you alive, even if I don't make it. Here," he said, pulling out his Invisibility Cloak and handing it to her. It was his prized possession, but if it protected Fleur from being found and Imperiused again, he would loan it to her. "Take it. If I don't survive, keep it or give it to my friends Ron and Hermione. Stay hidden and you will survive."

Fleur gaped wide-eyed at the cloak when she wrapped it around her shoulders. "C'est magnifique!"

"Be careful, Fleur," Harry whispered. "And stay safe," and he bolted off in the general direction of the cup. If he could get the cup before more people were killed, he may be able to finish this Tournament will more than one competitor left. The need to prevent as many killings as he could, pushed all tiredness to the back of his mind. "Point me," Harry whispered again to his wand. He was moving a little too far west, and adjusted his course. Deeper and deeper he went into the forest, and the sun's light was slowly fading. Harry decided he would make camp before night fall. Scouring the landscape around him, he settled on a hollow log. The night was warm, so he wouldn't need a fire, and Harry had gone through longer periods without food at the Dursley's: he would be fine. As the sun disappeared below the horizon, Harry fell asleep; ready for the next survivalist day.

* * *

Harry woke to the smell of smoke. Blearily opening his eyes, he saw a dark figure not too far off, back turned, cooking something over a fire. Wand at the ready, Harry quietly got up and approached the figure.

"Going to attack me, Potter?" a sarcastic voice asked. Snape. The figure was Snape.

"No," Harry replied, furiously stuffing his wand back in his pocket. He walked up to Snape and sat across from him. "Who's…dead, sir?"

"That Viktor Krum," Snape smirked, " and a few 'volunteers.' That is all."

Harry took that in. His favourite Quidditch player was dead and so were a few -likely innocent- people. He couldn't think of that right now while they were still in the competition. Harry's stomach gave a loud growl. "Sorry," he muttered.

"Here," Snape said, shoving some type of cooked meat into Harry's hands, "eat."

"Thanks, sir," said Harry, taking a grateful bite into the juicy meat. "What is it?"

"Venison," Snape replied almost smugly. Harry continued eating until another question popped into his head. "You know where the cup is?"

Snape ignored the lack of "sir," and answered slowly, "I estimate it to be somewhere off in the Northwest direction."

"Thought so," Harry nodded knowingly. Finishing the venison, Harry looked around for a source of water. Upon finding none, Harry decided to ask. "Have you found any water, sir?" He asked, remembering the title this time.

"No, most wizards know the spell to conjure water. Of course, as you are so much like your father, you would be expecting people to just bring buckets of it to your feet. I see you are too spoiled to find the need for that particular spell," Snape sneered. He grudgingly pulled out two goblets. "Aguamenti," he said, pointing his wand into both cups, and a spout of water erupted from his wand. "Here," he said, shoving he goblet at Harry.

Harry drank the refreshing cool water. It had to be mid-morning by now. "We better be going, Professor," Harry said.

"Indeed," replied Snape.

Both of them stood, and Harry asked his wand for directions again. It seems they were on the right path. Walking with Snape was awkward. Snape took long, quick strides that Harry had trouble keeping up with at times. They stopped briefly for lunch, and then continued on their way in silence. By evening, Harry was feeling hopeless as to when they would find the trophy. Who knows what other competitors died? Who else had lost their life in this ridiculous game?

"Pay attention, Potter!" hissed Snape, stopping Harry from taking another step. "Your daftness and inability to pay attention will cost you if you do not watch where you are going!" Harry looked bewilderedly at Snape. "Pay attention to what?"

Snape gave an impatient sigh. "Look," he said, pointing to the ground just ahead of them. "Note the slight shimmer against the ground; look at how the trees interact with the sky. Notice how everything appears to be a tad hazy… this land is warded and probably full of dangerous creatures."

Harry squinted at the ground, and did see the delicate rolling of the atmosphere there. "But why is it warded?..sir?"

"Who knows?" shrugged Snape. "I, however, do not feel as though we should walk through it. We must go around."

Harry felt uneasy with going around. "What if it's not to keep dangerous stuff in, but dangerous stuff out?"

"Scared, Potter? My my, I thought the Boy Who Lived had more courage than this," sneered Snape.

"I'm not scared," Harry said defiantly. "All I said was the ward may be keeping monsters out, not that I was scared."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Go. Durmstrang's professor already knows the general direction in which we are heading. Do not slow us down any further."

Harry bit back a retort and followed Snape around the warded area. Occasionally stopping to listen, and then moving more quickly than before. The second night was quickly approaching, and soon the sun would set, and another night would be upon them.

"Search for some source of food, Potter," Snape instructed. "I will create the fire."

_'Course he will,_ Harry thought bitterly, _all he has to do is wave his wand and there's the fire. Of course he wants me to go looking for our food. That's too difficult for him._ Harry furiously kicked a rock in his anger; it soared in a smooth arc across the dark ground. It landed with a dull "thump," and rolled erratically around until a booted foot stopped it in its tracks. Harry looked up to find that the boot belonged to none other than Desislava of Durmstrang.

"Harry Potter, ve meet again," Desislava whispered. "The boy who defeated the Dark Lord. Did you receive my message?"

"It was you?" asked an astounded Harry. "You threatened to kill me?"

"And I vill succeed," she replied smoothly. "While the Dark Lord lost his powers, he vill rise again, and when he does…you vill die. Until then, perhaps he won't mind if I add a few injuries to you…Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry dodged the spell just before it hit him, and gave a shout, "Expelliarmus!"

Just like Harry, Desislava dodged the spell before it reached her. "You vill need more skill than that!" she teased in a sing-song voice. "I vill not be going easy on you! Crucio!" Harry's knees gave out and his eye sight became hazy. It was if little tiny scorpions were stinging every bit of his flesh, and on the inside, white hot pain coursed through him. He tried to hold back a scream, but failed miserably. His body jerked again as another wave of pain crashed over him. Images were spinning in front of his eyes, and the whereabouts of Desislava was a mystery to Harry. _Kill me…kill me…_ Harry thought desperately and gave another scream. _Kill me now._ The pain stopped. Harry couldn't open his eyes just yet; he was tired…oh so tired. Every joint and muscle ached with the fiery power of a thousand suns. A headache was forming behind his eyes and on his temples. He tried to massage the side of his head, but soon realised he had lost the ability to move his arms. He gave another groan as he finally managed to wiggle his sore fingers. His ears were ringing but he could hear the faint sound of duelling; he'd heard done enough duelling against others to know that whoever they were, the one closest to him was winning. Harry took in a sharp breath of air when he tried to move his toes, and faded into unconsciousness.


	16. Chapter 16

**Hi everyone! Sorry about the techie problems last week; there's not a lot I could do to fix it. We are on the second last chapter! I hope you've enjoyed the story thus far, and I would love to hear from you guys! Many thanks to Princess Twila, Saint Snape, and Kairan1979 for the constant reviews! **

**Enjoy the chapter! Love, Inspired178**

* * *

Chapter 16: The Cup

When Harry regained consciousness, he first tried to move his fingers. Once successful, he worked his way through all his limbs; when he was satisfied he could move properly with no pain, he opened his eyes. The bright light of early afternoon forced Harry to squint his eyes.

_Where's my glasses?_ Harry wondered. He tried to sit up, but a firm hand pushed him back down. "Do not exert yourself, Potter.

"Snape," Harry started hoarsely, "_you_ saved me?"

Snape rolled his eyes. "Potter," he spat, "what did I tell you before we entered this trifling pursuit?"

"Uh…" Harry strained to remember. Then, he flushed with embarrassment, "to not lose my wand."

"Correct, Potter. I said, '_do not lose your wand'._ When I found you, you were unconscious and your wand was not in your hand. You will not live to face the Dark Lord if you do not have your wand, Potter."

"Right, sir," Harry mumbled. "Why'd you help me?"

Snape rolled his eyes and handed Harry his glasses. "The Cruciatus Curse was used on you twice in one week, and most people will scream before reaching the state of unconsciousness. As it is, you had done so also; enough for Professor Dumbledore to hear you back at the stadium. I was not going to let you be tortured by a _Durmstrang_ professor," he answered dismissively.

"Where is she? Is she dead? How long have I been out? Have you been talking to Dumble-" Snape raised his hand to silence him. "Just because you have been unconscious for half a day does not mean you will have the privilege to address me without the proper title. I am still Professor Snape or sir, to you."

"But what abo-," Harry began, but was interrupted.

"Now," began Snape in a strict tone, "We shall move at nightfall. Rest until dinner; following the meal I expect you to help erase any evidence of our being here, and we will then continue on."

"Yes, sir," said Harry weakly. He was so tired. He mumbled something incoherent before drifting off to sleep.

"Reckless child," grumbled Snape.

When Harry woke again he judged it to be mid-afternoon by the state of the barely visible sun. Waiting until supper to get up and moving had proven to be very difficult to a freshly rested Harry. "Can I get up now, sir?" Harry asked for the sixth time to a tired Snape. "No," Snape replied boredly, "and if you ask one more time, I will cut you up and use your guts as potion ingredients."

Harry's mouth snapped shut and he didn't say another word; one would always take Snape's threats seriously. When Snape began to make a fire, Harry took that as a silent signal that he could stand up and stretch. His muscles still ached a bit, but Harry knew he could deal with simple muscle pains.

"What's for dinner, professor?" Harry asked Snape who was cooking some meat over the fire.

"Venison," Snape replied complacently. Harry sat down and began tearing off bits of his share of the venison. He really did enjoy eating venison. Harry never had to opportunity to sample it at the Dursleys, and even if he was sharing it with Snape of all people, he found it delicious. Once they had eaten their meat and drank some water, Harry started to cover their footprints in the dirt, while Snape cleared up the fire.

"An almost satisfactory job, Potter. We don't have time to correct your work-we must move now. Let us hope your poorly executed erase will be believable to the other competitors," said Snape.

"Of course _my_ job is done wrong. It would never be _your_ fault with anything!" retorted an agitated Harry.

"Do not use that tone with me," Snape said sharply. "You may be haughty enough to think of yourself above using titles, but no matter how big your head gets, Potter, you _will not_ back talk to me."

"Why do you hate my father so much?" questioned Harry. "What has he ever done to you that you have to constantly insult him?"

"Your blessed father was an arrogant bully who constantly sought attention and praise. Just because you are average at Quidditch does _not_ make you king of the world," hissed Snape.

"I don't think I'm king of the world! I'm sure my father didn't either! Everyone said he was a great man, so why do you hate him so much?" asked Harry exasperated.

"Enough!" Snape barked. "Your superciliousness does not give you the right to inquire on every detail of my life."

"Fine! I just don't see why you have to insult me because of my dad. I have parts of my mum in my personality, and I have my own traits to me as well! Why do you always compare me to my dad?"

"I said enough, Potter!" Snape said angrily. "Start walking now! I still hold to my earlier threat."

Harry trudged ahead of Snape; fuming. He occasionally asked his wand for directions, until they reached a lake. The lake was black in colour, and was so murky, you could not see into its depths at all. The lake was also small; about a quarter of the size of the lake at Hogwarts. In the middle, there was a small island with a tiny chest. When Harry made a move to swim to the island, Snape stopped him. "Think, Potter. This is a murky lake, and we are in a dangerous tournament. This lake could kill you in an instant, or murder you slowly. It could make you forget everything, or paralyse you. You cannot just walk into it," said Snape.

"Fine," said Harry grumpily. They needed to get the chest _now_. Harry had no idea if Fleur was still alive with his cloak, or if Desislava was following them and watching them…plotting her next move.

"We must find another way to the island. As apparating is unfortunately unavailable, and I know you will not have any ideas, I believe we should create a raft."

"With what?" asked Harry.

"With wood, Potter," scoffed Snape. "Find me a strong branch that has fallen off a tree, and I will transfigure it."

Harry wandered around until he found a fair sized branch. It was surprisingly heavy for a now exhausted boy such as Harry. Try as he might, he couldn't move the branch. Sighing, he set off in search of another one.

"Bonjour, 'arry," someone whispered in his ear. Harry whipped around to see Anelie and Ivy; two Professors, smiling evilly at him. "Expellia-" he tried to yell, but Ivy covered his mouth with her hand. She took his wand from his outstretched hand. "Careful, 'arry. You wouldn't want us to keel you yet, would you?" Ivy asked maliciously.

Harry shook his head. _Think, think, think!_ He panicked. _There has got to be a way out of this!_ Ivy released her hand from Harry's mouth and took a step back. Harry did not scream, for fear of them killing him before he could escape. And without his wand, he was defenseless. He would never leave his wand with these two.

"You keeled my precious student Krum!" Anelie yelled. Her face had turned red and her hands balled into fists. She rolled her "r's" in a way that sent spit flying in Harry's face.

"I-I didn't! It wasn't me who killed Krum!" Harry exclaimed desperately. He could feel the anger burning in his stomach. Snape would be angry with him for taking so long with the branch, and he _still_ couldn't find an easy escape route.

"You deed! You and that horrible profezzer Snape!" Anelie yelled back. Her face within inches of Harry's; he could feel her horrible breath in his face. He felt a small triumph in his stomach. Anelie was yelling –with extreme volume; Snape would hear them and know he was in trouble.

"It wasn't me. I've told you that. Give me back my wand!"

Ivy laughed a cold, hard laugh that didn't seem to fit with the petite Beauxbatons professor. "You know Umbreedge, yes?" she asked. Harry nodded. "Then you are aware that we (she gestured to herself and Anelie) agree weeth 'er about you."

This certainly was news to Harry. Although given the circumstances, he wasn't surprised. "What does that _toad_ have to offer you?"

"Nozzing," Ivy replied. "We 'ave 'eard of you, 'arry Potter. We don't like you. You are a liar and a fraud. You deserve to be puneeshed."

Harry shivered despite the hot temperatures. That definitely sounded like Umbridge. Anelie gave an impatient sigh. "Thees ees takeen too long! Let's go!"

"I wouldn't run, if I were you," a deep voice threatened. Snape emerged from the trees, wand at the ready, he made a quick movement with his wand, and without even uttering a spell, bound them. "How pathetic," he sneered, "going after the youngest competitor. How…_cowardly._ Umbridge will be disappointed with you. Then again, she'll have to find you first." Harry grabbed his wand before Snape took his arm and led him back to the lake.

"_Why_ were you not prepared for another attack, Potter?" he snapped.

"I didn't think they'd go after me," Harry muttered.

"Ah! There's the answer! You 'didn't think'!" Snape replied coldly. "I told you before this stupid task that I would _not_ watch your back for you. It appears that my words of caution went completely over your prized head! There will be a war soon, Potter. I will not be your bodyguard. Learn to defend yourself properly!"

"Fine, sir," Harry responded. He felt ashamed he hadn't protected himself better…what if that had been Voldemort? He would have been dead for sure.

"Seeing as you were…distracted, I have already transfigured a raft for us," said Snape. "Get on, and don't touch the water!"

Harry obeyed and soon they were floating over the dark lake towards the island. The island was just big enough to support Snape and Harry. "Stand back, Potter, you do not know of the contents in this chest." Snape held Harry by the shoulder of his jacket to prevent him from falling, and with a wave of his wand, the chest opened to reveal the cup. The Triwizard Tournament Cup! It hovered in the air in all of its ancient glory.

"Who will take it?" Harry wondered aloud.

"Of course _you_ will Potter. You cannot pass up a glory such as that," jeered Snape.

"Then you take it!" Harry said angrily. Snape's grip tightened around Harry's jacket shoulder. "You seem to think all I want is glory and attention! YOU take it then!"

Snape grasped the handle of the cup, and Harry felt the as though a hook was pulling his bellybutton. _Finally,_ he sighed, _the tournament is done._


	17. Chapter 17

**This is the end of another tale! Thank you for everyone who took time to review. I appreciate each and every one of you! I hope you like this last chapter, and I'd love to hear from you!  
Thanks to Princess Twila for beta-ing and reviewing every chapter without fail.  
Thanks to Saint Snape and Kairan 1979 for their predictions, question, and reviews!**

**And finally, thank you to you, readers, who maybe don't own an account or are too shy to review! It's been a blast!**

**Love, Inspired178**

* * *

Chapter 17: The Shadows of Doubt

A sense of dread drenched Harry like an iced bucket of water when they landed. The graveyard. It was just like his dreams! Right down to the old skeleton that appeared to be crawling towards a grave. "I've been here before!" whispered Harry anxiously. "We need to leave here, Professor. NOW."

A rat crossed over Snape's feet and he kicked it. "YOU!" yelled Snape. "YOU FOUL EXCUSE FOR A RAT, PETTIGREW!" Harry was taken aback; Snape almost never yelled.

Right before their very eyes, Peter Pettigrew transformed back into his human shape, his hair thin and wispy, his hands cramped in a claw-like shape, cowering before Snape's glare. When Snape took a step towards him, Pettigrew ran into the abandoned shed. Snape raised his wand and pointed it at the shed while Harry looked on wide-eyed. When Pettigrew emerged, he seemed much calmer holding what looked like a baby wrapped in cloth.

"Bind him," a wheezy voice commanded, and Pettigrew obeyed. He forced Harry onto a platform that had a skeletal figure with a scythe. The arms holding the scythe encased Harry, and he struggled to free himself. _Snape,_ Harry silently begged, _why aren't you doing anything? You were never the bad guy before -even when we suspected you. Don't be one now…_

Snape was standing stiffly on the sidelines, eyes slightly wider than usual, mouth pressed into a thin line; his face was as cold and blank as ever, but there was a nervous edge to it.

Pettigrew lit a cauldron filled with water, and dumped a pink baby-like creature into it. "Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!" shouted Pettigrew. Using his wand, he levitated a fragile bone from the grave over which Harry was constrained and sent it into the cauldron. The mixture turned a poisonous blue, and Harry tried again to free himself. "Flesh of the servant, willingly sacrificed, you will revive your master," Pettigrew shuddered. Harry closed his eyes as Pettigrew raised a knife in the air. A painful cry from Pettigrew followed by a sickening splash made Harry queasy. When he opened his eyes again, Pettigrew was clutching his wrist from which a hand was now missing. Pettigrew walked hunched over towards Harry who spat in his face. "Blood of the enemy, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe!" Harry cried out in pain when the long knife dug into his forearm. "The Dark Lord," said Pettigrew between droplets of blood, "shall rise," another drop, this time the cauldron turned a blinding white, " again!"

Harry gave another yell. He hoped the wretched thing would drown. His scar hurt more than it had ever before. He'd rather take the Cruciatus Curse again. After several long and excruciating moments during which a vile-looking vapor spilled over the sides of the cauldron, Voldemort rose from the mist and took a deep breath. His entire body was snake-like; pale green and hairless, he clasped in his long fingers a wand Pettigrew had handed him. And his eyes…two gleaming red orbs poised menacingly over two slits that served as his nose. "Severus," Voldemort whispered, sounding surprised, "I did not expect to see you so soon."

"I would never leave your side, my Lord," Snape bowed. Harry couldn't believe it, Snape was a Death Eater! He worked with Voldemort! Harry couldn't believe he had been right about Snape all along! Why would Dumbledore trust him? How could anyone trust foul scum like Death Eaters? Betrayal burned in his stomach. "You set me up for this!" Harry yelled. "Dumbledore trusted you! You're a Death Eater!"

Snape rolled his eyes. "What a wonderful observation, Potter."

"Ah, Harry Potter! The Boy Who Lived!" Voldemort said coolly. He walked slowly towards Harry, his cloak trailing behind him. "Your filthy Muggleborn mother tried to save you, you know…such a pity. Your father tried to defend me without his wand!" Voldemort gave a cold laugh at this. "But no one is a match to Lord Voldemort…no, not even you. You were just a baby when I lost my powers, but tonight I am revived, and you will die. Stand up! We shall duel!" Voldemort released the binds on Harry, and Harry scrambled towards the tournament cup.

"No no, dear Harry! You shall duel me!" Voldemort cast a spell that caused Harry to move towards him. Harry tried to fight it, to run to the cup, he succeeded in moving a few steps before collapsing in exhaustion. He stood up defiantly. "I'm sure Dumbledore would want you to use your manners Harry, bow!" Harry gave a grunt when Voldemort's spell forced him to bow. "Good! Good! And now we duel! 3,2,1…Avada Kedavra!"

"Expelliarmus!" Harry shouted at the same time. The two spells collided, creating a white flaming ball between the two of them and growing to encase them. Snape tried to remain calm, watching the scene before him with growing trepidation. He tried to stay put and not interfere; after all, Voldemort believed him to be on his side. But if Potter died…

The duel, if it could be called that, continued; Harry and Voldemort could only hang onto their vibrating wands as the collision caused by their spells produced magic never seen before danced around them. The white ball glowed bright and brighter until Harry couldn't even see Voldemort anymore. When two figures appeared at the center of the collision, Harry chanced a glance at them, and his heart nearly stopped in surprise.

"Mum? Dad?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Hi, son," James said softly. "You've grown so much! We are so proud of you."

Lily nodded in agreement. She looked at Snape for a quick second with a small smile, and then back at Harry. "You need to let go, Sweetie. You can do it! We'll distract Voldemort. Run to the cup and take Severus. Go! You're ready! Let go! Let go!"

With a tremendous effort that took all of Harry's Gryffindor courage, Harry wrenched his wand backwards and broke off contact with Voldemort. Snape was already standing beside the cup, and when Harry grabbed it, they were transported to the Stadium, cup in hand. People broke into applause, but Harry remained frozen where he was. The cut on his arm was making him feel faint. Everything seemed to be spinning and the ground beneath his feet felt uneven. Snape had his hands on Harry's good arm, supporting him, but only just barely. When Dumbledore reached Harry, he croaked, "Voldemort's back. He's back. Snape's a Death Eater! How could you trust him?" Dumbledore gave Snape a significant look, and then gestured for Harry and Snape to follow him. Harry, supported now by both Dumbledore and Snape, walked from the arena to Dumbledore's office. Umbridge took up the duty to announce the winners, the deaths, and such, whilst the three of them exited the stadium.

When they arrived at Dumbledore's office, Harry sat down in the chair he always occupied when visiting, Dumbledore sat behind his desk, and Snape stood behind Harry, arms folded. Harry felt nauseous, and was almost positive he would be sick all over Dumbledore's desk. His scar throbbed and he was covered in sweat, dirt and blood. The adrenaline that was pumping through his veins had now dissipated, leaving an exhausted Harry in its wake.

"He's a Death Eater!" exclaimed Harry as soon as Dumbledore gave him a nod to go ahead. "How could you trust him?"

Dumbledore silence him with a hand, "I assure you Severus is on our side, Harry."

"But how can you trust him?" he asked stubbornly. "If he was a Death Eater and then turned back from it, what makes you sure it won't do it again?"

Snape tightened his hands into fists. He stood tall and looked coldly at Dumbledore; though there was a grief in his eyes that even Harry could see. When Dumbledore sent him a knowing look, he ever so slightly shook his head.

"Severus," Dumbledore sighed with weariness; his hands clasped together on his desk.

"No," Snape replied sharply.

"Severus," Dumbledore pleaded, "in time he must know."

"Know what?" blurted Harry.

Snape was giving a death glare to Dumbledore. "No one can know."

"Know what?" Harry repeated.

"I believe Severus would prefer if he told you, rather than I," said Dumbledore.

"I'd prefer to tell no one and leave it at that," snapped Snape. "The boy may not believe your trust in me, but _I_ doubt my trust in you at the present time."

"Severus," Dumbledore said softly, "he must know soon."

"Not today, and not in my lifetime," Snape replied harshly.

"Very well," said Dumbledore, disappointed. "Harry, I apologize, Severus does not feel as though the time is right to reveal why exactly he turned away from Lord Voldemort. I assure you, you will know in time. Until then, I-"

"Hem. Hem," Umbridge coughed. She walked into the room with a sense of self-worth and confidence. Dozens of reporters swarmed behind her like bees and she was the honey. "On behalf of the Ministry, we would like to offer Professor Severus Snape the honour of working as an Auror, and Mr. Potter a specialist in training at the Ministry."

"I decline the offer, Umbridge; I would rather teach First Years Double Potions than work with inept Ministry workers," Snape replied coolly.

Harry clenched his fists and stood up. "No," he said through gritted teeth. "Honestly, I don't want to work with a paranoid Minister and his brainwashed minions. I have a statement for these reporters," he looked at every single one, "Voldemort is back," there was a collective gasp, but when Harry saw Umbridge's face, he spat in anger, "I'm being truthful, aren't I? After all, I mustn't tell lies. Isn't that right Umbridge?" He held up his scarred hand so she and the reporters could see.

"HE'S NOT BACK!" She spat. Umbridge turned pink. "You can't decline, Potter! It's the Ministry!"

"He is, and I can," Harry pointed out. "You offered, not ordered."

Dumbledore chuckled. "Very good observation, Harry. Yes, Madame Umbridge, he may decline your offer. I believe Ludo Bagman of the Games Department wished to talk to you. I believe he is with Hagrid at the moment."

Umbridge straightened herself and gave a huff. "I will _not_ go near that filthy half-breed!"

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled. "You may escort yourself out, Madame. You are relieved of your post at Hogwarts for using corporal punishment on a student. For your own safety I hope you realise the truth of Harry's words before it is too late."

Umbridge tilted her head up in defiance and the reporters filed out of the office, pushing her towards the door. Snape gave a quick wave of his wand and the door slammed into Umbridge's back, shoving her out of office.

Harry turned back towards Dumbledore. "Fine," he said, "What about Desislava and Ivy? Desislava used the Cruciatus Curse on me, and Ivy helped. They sent the threatening letter to me under Umbridge's orders apparently. Why?"

Dumbledore gazed into Harry's eyes. "I do not know yet, Harry, but I will find out soon enough."

* * *

"Another year has gone!" Dumbledore announced cheerfully to all assembled in the Great Hall. "I hope you all have enjoyed your classes, and are looking forward to summer!" Everyone cheered. "It gives me great pleasure to announce that Harry Potter and Professor Snape won the Triwizard Tournament!" More cheering. "Because of this, 100 points each will be added to Gryffindor and Slytherin!" Fred and George whooped and Harry smiled. "If my calculations are correct, I am also happy to announce that Gryffindor has won the house cup!"

Gryffindor clapped loudly and Harry looked smugly at Malfoy. They won! When everyone had filed out of the Great Hall to say his or her goodbyes in the courtyard, Harry held back to talk to Snape one last time before he boarded the Hogwarts Express.

"Professor!" Harry called above the noise.

"What is it, Potter?" Snape grumbled.

"I suppose I should thank you for saving me twice from Professor Desislava and from Ivy. But frankly, I don't trust you; you may not have killed me, but I've seen you with Voldemort, and you both looked pretty cozy, a bit more than a double spy would," Harry scowled.

"You are as arrogant as your father, Mister Potter, if you think that I need your approval," Snape replied witheringly. "It is not your business to know why my loyalties lie where they do. All you should be worrying about is what Professor Dumbledore tells you."

"And I want to know why he DOES trust you!" Harry almost shouted. Then he slumped back, feeling exhausted and as if he just wanted to curl up in the Gryffindor common room and forget the entire tournament. "Forget it...just forget it." He turned to walk away.

"It's either 'sir' or 'Professor Snape' to you, Mister Potter," Snape hissed after him.

Harry turned back to him, green eyes flashing. "Yes, sir. I hope your summer treats you well," he said coldly. Then he was gone, and Snape was left by himself, just the way he always had been.

* * *

Students from all 3 schools gathered in the courtyard of Hogwarts, biding goodbyes and giving addresses.

" 'Arry!" Fleur Delacour called, as she approached him. "I 'ave a bag for you that I theenk you weel appreciate."

Harry gave a confused look before comprehension dawned on him. "Thank you," he replied gratefully. In all the excitement of the Final Task, he had almost forgotten he had given Fleur his Invisibility Cloak.

She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "You are very welcome. You saved my life." She turned to go to her carriage.

Harry boarded the Hogwarts Express with a smile. Ginny was sitting next to him in a more-than-friendly proximity, Hermione and Ron were laughing, and Malfoy was pouting in his compartment. It looked as though next year would be a good one. The mirror and the letter were pushed to the back of Harry's mind until the following year, when two horrible deaths made it clear: the war had begun.

* * *

_And so the end of another tale_

_That tells of greatness and sorrow._

_Thank you, the reader, for sticking with me,_

_I'll see you in the 'morrow._

_Love, Inspired178_


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